A Darkness For The Light
by gingerchangeling
Summary: She has no choice but to find Him. A young, innocent princess must seek out help from the one person she was told to never encounter. The Dark One-aboard his blood soaked ship, driven by the wind of revenge against the very world that created him. The only question that remains is will he help the frail child of light or allow his darkness to consume them both, and her kingdom too.
1. Chapter 1

_The kingdom was ending. This much she knew. The Evil Queen-she trembled as just the shadow of her name crossed her thoughts- had somehow returned, and not made a single demand before taking that which she treasured most. When her parents had not been enough to stir her fear into action, the queen had returned and taken the only treasure in the kingdom that she could never willingly surrender. Her son. And so she had no recourse except to do the unthinkable. She took the only things she could think of that might have some value to him, packed up her saddle bag, trying to get over her terror of the horse she was now planning on mounting. Time was of the essence and her carriage would be too slow, though she had never travelled by any other method than that and on her own two feet. But after a few seconds delay, in which she tried to master the beating of her heart and quell the tears that would not seem to stop falling, she pulled herself up off the mounting block and onto the mighty beast. The gentle creature seemed to sense both her terror and her sorrow, for it remained perfectly still, and allowed the innocent soul astride him to settle before carefully beginning to move forward out of the stables. Thankful that her mother's ability to commune with animals was something she had partially inherited- the thought made her tears pour afresh down her ashen white face- she managed to choke out her request to the animal between broken sobs. The horse flicked his ears in surprise and no small amount of alarm, but then dipped his head with a whicker. Like the humans of this kingdom, he too loved and respected his rulers, and so knew it was his obligation to escort the lady astride him to her requested destination. He waited for her to grip the reins before speeding up, his glistening black coat shimmering as the light refracted off his perfectly kept mane and shining nearly as brightly as his ocean blue eyes._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1.

The day was a bleak as any other he had had the displeasure of viewing. He meandered out from the Captain's Quarter's below to the empty deck, delighted as ever by the complete absence of people around. With a wave of his hand, the mainsail dropped as the rigging fixed itself into its new position. He took time to assess the beauty of the rising sun, which is what had called him up from his chambers, as it did every morning. And as with every other morning, he rolled his eyes at himself for thinking he would be able to see anything beautiful at all. He had lost the ability to perceive that sort of thing with his senses a long time ago.

He turned his back to the sunrise with a scoff, ambling up to the helm, releasing the magic that had locked it on course eastward during the night. He ran his palms across the smooth wood, and waited in vain for his ship to respond to his caress, to the loving touch of her captain. And like every other morning, she didn't. The planks of wood that once sang to him no longer made their music and the lady who had danced under his lead through many a storm now sat silent. And he, as in every other bloody day since he had achieved his goal, knew why she no longer savored his touch.

It was her silent rebuke of his choices. A part of him, the small sliver that was not yet consumed by the throbbing darkness within him, was proud of his old girl. For all the power he now wielded, he was being told off by his own bloody boat. She had never agreed with his decision to finish the mission he had started so long ago aboard her decks. And once his hand had finally done the deed, slaying the vile thing in his cell where their majesties thought they could hide him, and he returned, born anew, to triumphantly sail away. But his efforts were thwarted when she refused to lower her gangplank to him. Something that had never happened before. And ever since then, she had refused to do anything he asked, and once his crew had fled in fear of his new found position, he was forced to use his power to manager her.

And he hated it. Hated that the one thing that had never left him in all his time failing, had so easily abandoned him once he had achieved his ultimate success.

And just like every other morning, the fury that always boiled just below his skin flared up at this consideration, and he yanked up his hook, ready to score untold damage into her decks, when, as always, the sight of a compass rose, making out port and starboard, scratched out in a fit of rage, stayed his hand. It was the only time he had ever intentionally done damage to her wood, and every time he had looked on it afterward, he felt the same clenching in his gut as he had when he felt her whimper of pain.

So he lowered his hook with a sigh, before settling himself behind the helm and taking full control of his vessel, allowing her to chase the sunrise. He had nothing better to do than to allow his ship to sail, and wait for some poor pathetic soul to conjure him.

It was only a matter of time. It always was.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

She was roused from a sleep she was unaware she had fallen into by the quiet whickering of her horse as he stilled. She slowly sat up from where she had ended up hunched over in the saddle, gasping slightly at the sharp aches that had developed in her muscles, giving a small sniffle as she blinked herself into awareness. Back into the reality that her son and parents were hostages.

She was struck by a light sea breeze, and took in her surroundings. She and her horse sat atop a small crest, able to see the hillside below as it sloped down to a shoreline in the distance. She had to squint a bit, as her eyesight had never been particularly good. It was one of the reasons she had always stayed in close spaces. She didn't have to worry about not being able to see. The ocean, among many other things, terrified her by its sheer vastness.

Even here, safe astride the horse that had born her so loyally, the sight of the far distant horizon, gleaming in the sunrise, caused her heart to race. But that reaction paled in comparison to violent trembling that started up as her eyes perceived a blur moving across the water. Despite her eyes only being able to make out the shadow of it, she knew, deep in her bones that it was the ship. His ship.

She took a shallow breath before bending over to run her hand along the neck of the animal below her, feeling her joins snap and pop and muscles tremble as she stretched them, shakily murmuring her gratitude in his ear. His clear blue eyes swiveled to look at her, pleased that he had done right by his liege lady. He nodded his thanks at her words, but his nerves at the presence he sensed in the far distance had him side stepping lightly, trying t persuade his lady that this was not the wisest course of action.

She soothed him, trying to find the courage that made her parent so well known. Her parents... Henry. Fear gripped her heart tightly again as she considered what could be their fate. They were depending on her. She swallowed hard, feeling the tears that had dried in her unplanned rest start to well back up again. She gave a small sniffle, before she took a deep breath.

For Henry.

She nodded, find a small modicum of courage enough in the thought of her son to grasp the reins again and flick them, giving her stead a light tap with her heals, urging him forward.

For a moment he dug in his heels, before giving in to his liege lady's foolish request with a sigh. Carefully, mindful that the lady astride him was not well versed in the saddle, he picked his way down the hillside toward the shore, feeling as the lady astride him began to tremble as if she were a piece of straw in the wind. He tossed his head, trying to pretend that there was nothing to be worried about as he felt every hair in his hide itch with how much he longed to turn away.

He shook his head and whisked his tail in irritation that he should even harbor such thoughts, rebuking himself for being afraid to go where his liege lady demanded he follow. Rolling his eyes at himself, he continued to descend the hill, until he felt the ground level out under him, and then begin to sink in under the weight of him and the lady. He could smell the salt and seaweed, as well as the cloying stench that clung to all evil things. He snorted, in the hopes of dispelling the awful stench from his nostrils, but it lingered, making him sigh.

When he could finally go no farther along the shore without putting his lady at risk of wetting her fine clothes in the surf, he stopped. The reek of darkness here was near overwhelming, but he dutifully knelt down to allow his lady to slide from his back, whickering in concern as she stumbled slightly, a cry of pain on her lips, before he rose to turn to face her. He noticed she was crying again, and she was still trembling, so he reached out to brush her hair from her face with his nose, blowing lightly on her face to dry her eyes.

She gave a watery smile, appreciative of his affections. She allowed herself one more moment of comfort before she gently pushed his head away. Then she stepped around the animal and looked out across the horizon, disturbed only by the shadow the made its way eastward leagues from the shore. She conjured up the smiling face of her son, taking one deep breath to steady herself. The she whispered the only words that she had been warned to never repeat.

"Killian Jones, Dark One, I Summon Thee."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3.

"Killian Jones, Dark One, I Summon Thee."

A cruel smile wormed its way across his face as he heard the words whispered into his mind.

At last.

He closed his eyes, allowing the connection born with the words to link him with the desperate soul who had spoken them, trying to gauge the distance and whether he would bring his ship or just teleport. He was shocked, not a feat easily achieved, when he traced the tendril a short distance to the shore that traced the horizon on the port side. He decided, since whoever it was had come all the way down to the shore in the hopes of meeting him, they should be treated to the full experience. Just to know what they were getting into.

With that thought in mind, he raised his hand to release the magic that would direct his ship toward the shore when he realized that for the first time in nearly three decades, his ship had taken action without him. She had turned course toward the shore and let down her sails, seeming almost, dare he say, eager to arrive at the shore line.

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you?" he growled out, scowling at the planks. The rigging creaked a bit and some of the planks groaned.

"What the bloody hell are you on about, exactly what I need? I have everything I need. Why the hell am I even talking to you, you're a bleeding boat."

A rope snapped, smacking him in the back of the head as it whipped passed. He whirled around with a growl, ready to burn the offending rope to nothing, but he was distracted by the carefree laughing as the sails flapped. That was a sound he had not heard from his ship since he had found his revenge. It almost reminded him of something Liam would do.

With an irritated, and yet, against his will, slightly entertained sigh, he reached up to rub the sore spot on the back of his head, "Aye, beggin your pardon. And a fine ship at that. You finished beating me over the head about it?"

The sails gave another chuckle but the wood settled complacently, while the wind swirled to caress his hair apologetically, and he couldn't help but run a hand over her rails, affection for her so deeply rooted that no darkness could do away with it. He took his position back behind the helm, feeling the wheel turn as easily as it ever had under his hands, no longer fighting his touch, and he couldn't help but raise a curious brow at what had gotten his long-brooding ship into such a state.

He would have his answer soon enough, for the shore was fast approaching, at a speed he'd not been able to coax out of his old girl in a long time. He could make out the figure draped in white and a stallion as black as the soul that now slithered through him standing at the shoreline. A cruel smile snaked onto his lips.

"Oh look at that old girl, they're bloody terrified... Marvelous," he chuckled. He continued to regard the two figures as the ship slowed, noticing that she had again fallen into a angry silence at his words. He rolled his eyes at the temperamental lady.

"Fine, you want to be surly, be my guest." The wood under his hands creaked threateningly, and the main mast practically scoffed at his words. He felt his black rage flare again, but before he could take action the ship jolted roughly, causing him to take a step to steady himself. He righted himself, growling obscenities under his breath at the vessel, before making his way down to the main deck, watching with surprise and irritation as the gangplank lowered itself with a splash into the water. He walked to the edge of the deck before looking back up at the two who awaited him. From this distance he could make out porcelain skin and blood red lips. A woman.

With a quick wave of his hand, he lowered the gangplank and parted the shallows, allowing him to step down onto the moist sand beneath without wetting his boots. At the gesture, he heard siding of the ship scoff at his flair and he pit back another growl of frustration as he made his way toward the two desperate souls that stood just above the tide line. He noticed, as he made his way leisurely up the shore, the well groomed state of the horse and the fine quality of the garments the lady wore. He allowed his eyes to roam over the beach, taking in the now risen sun and the surf. His eyes returned to the horse, which was, if he didn't know any better, looking at him with both apprehension and accusation. A horse. Looking at him with scorn. Was his reputation so dulled with time that he had descended to the level of being judged by a horse? Or a bloody BOAT for that matter? The darkness within him sat and coiled at the thought.

Once he was a few feet away, he observed that the woman was terrified, though her face was concealed by the hood of her ermine-lined cloak. Satisfaction blossomed in his chest. The bloody horse and his bloody boat weren't important. The ones who knew better were still afraid, and that's all that mattered. The darkness reveled in every tremble he could see rack her frame.

Always one for manners, he sketched a casual bow, allowing his hooked arm to raise behind him with an unnecessary flourish, reveling in the gasp of fear and horror the dainty bit before him gave as she took it in. He could barely contained a chuckle, but a smile would not be restrained.

But as he straightened, the thing slid off his face at the same rate as the woman before him lowered her hood with shaking hands. The sun caught on her golden hair and lit up her pale skin, making her almost glow in the morning light.

"My name is Emma, Crown Princess of Misthaven, and I am here to make a deal with you Dark One."

He almost didn't believe his eyes. He saw. She was beautiful.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4.

"My name is Emma, Crown Princess of Misthaven, and I am here to make a deal with you Dark One."

She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice, keep the pain she was in from slipping through, but her reaction to his proximity was something she could not master. He seemed to be at odds with his very nature. For as his cold blue eyes widened, they seemed to match the shade of the most comforting of summer days, and his dark beauty seemed designed to shield the demon beneath. But the feature that brought the most terror to her was the gleam of curving silver, an item that possessed such a graceful composition. She had heard tales of the deeds it performed, and bleakly wondered how such smooth curves could cut such harsh lines as stories told.

He continued to stare at her, his face blank, not responding to her pronouncement, and fear began to get the better of her trembling limbs. Her breaths became shorter and her already hazy vision grew even more indistinct. And still he continued to remain silent, his face impassive and unreadable. He wasn't going to help her, she realized. This was all in vain. He was going to dismiss her and she would have nowhere left to turn. Her parents... Henry…. would die and her kingdom would be ravaged by The Evil Queen's cruelty. And there would be nothing she could do but watch as all she loved was taken from her.

The thought forced tears from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks, and she could no more stop them than the tides that pulled at the shore beside her. She only had enough wherewithal to keep herself upright, swaying slightly as she drowned in her despair. But through blurry eyes, she watched his brows furrow momentarily. His throat worked hard as his eyes gleamed with a curious light, lips tight in an expression she couldn't place.

"What's wrong with you?" he barked out suddenly, his voice harsh and low. Another odd contradiction, for there was a gentle melody to the way his tongue caressed the words, but his tone bit them out, making them cruel and ragged.

At his tone, she startled, giving a small yelp of fright at his direct question, trying to sort out the words through the fog of fear that clouded her mind. Trying to overcome the trembling enough to get the desperately needed words to be said.

"I...My pare...My king- peop...They.. We...-"

"SPIT IT OUT LASS," he snarled. She instinctively stumbled back from his raised voice, thudding into the solid mass of horse flesh behind her.

The horse let low a warning wicker, swinging his head around to rest next to his liege lady's. He sent a withering glare at the demon who had so coarsely raised his voice at the sweet child. The demon gave him a black look, and all the instincts of his forebears told him to take his lady and get as far from the creature as his legs would carry them. But his lady had come here for a reason, and until her goal had been reached, he would remain steadfast by her side.

She felt the warmth of the beast behind her, so different from the cold that the man before her seemed to radiate. The cold that seemed to leech the strength from her bones and make all her aches throb, despite trying to keep Henry's smile at the forefront of her mind. And she could not find the courage to say what needed to be said. As she realized this, that she had failed her family, her kingdom, her son, her knees crumbled under her and she felt into a heap on the sand, sobbing as sheer hopelessness overwhelmed her.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" His sharp rebuke had her cowering further into the sand, afraid of what wrath he might unleash now that she had summoned him to a fruitless endeavour.

"Oh for the love of all the gods," came an exasperated sigh. She was suddenly being gripped by a hand with the strength of iron, being lifted bodily from the ground before being set on her feet roughly, feeling his fingers bruise her as he squeezed and drawing another yelp from her. She tried to shy away, sure that her heart was going to beat out of her chest in her terror, but the hand remained tight around her upper arm until she stilled, sobbing violently afresh at the latest terror.

"Bloody woman..." she heard before the hand left her arm to reappear on her chin, forcing her face upward with a might that would not be refused, and before she could compose herself even marginally, she was staring into his red-rimmed blue eyes.

She would have startled at his proximity but his eye froze her in place, like a snake ensnaring a bird. He looked so weary, circles carved deeply beneath his eyes, and behind the anger, she saw an unquenchable sorrow and the shadow of regret. The look of a thing being torn apart by its own mind. But as swift as the observations came to her, they fled in the storm that she watched darken his brow.

"You blood summoned me here _princess_ , so bloody well spit it out before I get back on my damn ship and leave you here sobbing in the mud."

"No," she whispered in horror. His words somehow calmed her more than anything else could. He had not refused her. He hadn't left. She could not allow him to leave. He was her last hope. He was the only one who could save her family. Who could save Henry. "No."

She watched a black eyebrow crawl upward as he sneered, "Then bloody well _get on with it_."

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her legs beneath her as they throbbed painfully. She stepped back, trying to ignore the tears still cascading down her face, for she knew there was no stopping them, and tried to piece together her request. For Henry, she reminded herself, trying to pull any royal decorum she had left to straighten her aching spine and raise her trembling chin. With her movement, he allowed the hand that had been roughly grasping her chin to fall to his belt buckle, his hooked arm lying oh so neatly against the hilt of his sword, and he simply waited, a mocking expression on his face.

For Henry. "I need to save my kingdom," she managed in a whisper. The mocking sneer was suddenly gone, a stone cold expression taking its place. She took hope that it was a good sign and that he was listening. That he no longer found humor in her fear.

She continued, "The Ev-The Evil Queen has taken my parents and..." her voice faded as some small strength in her suddenly violently wished to withhold information about Henry from the creature. He started briefly, a tiny flinch, before his eyes narrowed. She summoned up that small shred of strength that had so viscerally made itself known and continued. "A- and I need your help to get them back."

His head tilted to the side as he regarded her concluding words. Her heart fluttered as quickly as a bird's wing in her chest, hope in this final recourse rising and falling just as quickly, so that the moment seemed to stretch onward for far too long.

Then a slow smile crept upon his lips as his hand came up to playfully curl about the hair of his beard. Sending a considering look upward, fingers dancing before a single ringed digit ended up tapping his chin and his eyes returned to hers, "Aye, and what can you offer?"

A rush of relief overwhelmed her, in spite of the continued fear that his eyes instilled in her. She scrambled to reply, to lay everything at his feet so he would be willing to accept something.

"Whatever you desire. I have the keys to the kingdom, any title you wish, any amount of gold, anything." Anything to help her family. Anything to save Henry.

But as she spoke she noticed the smile fade into a look of disdain, "What the bloody hell would I want with any of that? "

Her whole world froze. He wanted none of it. Nothing she offered had even tempted him into accepting. No, she had come too far, and this was all she had left, there had to be some-

Her blood froze as her mind suddenly landed on the thing she possessed that was of greatest value to a man like him.

For Henry.

"Me." It came out as a ghost of a whisper, but his eyes sharpened as his whole face transformed into a mask of steel yet again.

"What did you say lass?" his voice was low, modulated, like he was sure he hadn't heard her right. His blue eyes seemed for a moment to shimmer with something and she felt a small glimmer of hope.

"You can have me. Anything you want from me, so long as you save my family."

His eyes blazed and she felt her hope burn away in their fury.

"Who the bloody hell do you take me for?!" he snarled. His wrath was completely unexpected and she again jerked back in horror and fear, her foolish notion quickly erased. "I am not some bloody slaver, nor will I allow such a thing to be practiced. NO. Go find someone else to help you. I am finished with y-"

She was still reeling in shock from his outburst when she was thrown yet again by his abrupt halt in speech, watching as he snapped around to glare at something in the same direction as his ship, which was creaking noisily in the wind. His hand tightened into a fist and suddenly the air around her seemed to vanish, making it impossible to breath, making her skin feel as if it had somehow become pulled away from the flesh beneath. The sensation continued to get more and more intense as he continued to glare at the ship

Suddenly, one of the sails of his ship snapped violently and he flinched again, ever so slightly. And just as quickly as it had come, the sensation vanished, the air returned, and his hand relaxed by his side as he turned back to face her. His eyes were empty. She had failed.

Henry.

"Aye, lass, for your willing soul, I'll save your family."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5.

"Aye, lass, for your willing soul, I'll save your family."

At his words, the eyes that had been glossed over in fear and hopelessness suddenly had their tiny spark rekindled. Something deep within him felt as if it sparked to life as well, the darkness spitting and hissing as it did.

He almost couldn't believe he had agreed. Couldn't believe that he was taking orders from his own blood boat. She had snarled at him as he had rebuked the cowering little creature before him, condemning his tone. His anger had surged beyond belief, magic pooling to him without a thought and he had been a moment away from completely destroying his vessel, thoughts of regret be damned.

Do it. I'd rather be sunk than in the hands of the man you've become.

He felt as if someone had stabbed him in the heart, like the ghost of his brother and of Milah had suddenly cried out from the shadows of his ship, using the vessel to make clear to him what they thought, even in death. His anger died as quickly as it had come, a bone deep weariness taking its place as he turned back to the heir of Misthaven, his magic and fury dissipating like fog in the sun rise..

She took a shuddering breath, clearly thrown by his sudden change of heart or perhaps the idea that he might have one.

"You mean you accept my offer?" Her voice shook slightly. Even the horse seemed to be in shock at his sudden change in mind, not that he could blame the bloody beast. He tilted his head, considering the slip of a woman before him, more a girl in her innocence, wondering why she had chosen him of all the desperate paths to follow.

"I do. But let me be very clear lass. A deal with me is binding. And while I don't take the same pleasure in their currency in the way my _predecessor,_ " he growled the words, even the memory still enough to kindle his old fires, feeling the darkness revel as the long scabbed over wound bled afresh, "was so fond of, I am still bound by the same laws as he. A deal is a deal, and you are as bound to your end as I am to mine. Do you understand exactly what you've bargained away?"

He knew better than anyone what it was to no longer be the master of your own flesh.

She had pulled even further away from him as he spoke, until she could go no farther because the bloody horse was in the way. But at his words, that small spark seemed to dull for a fraction and he felt something foreign within him squeeze at the sight. Then, as clearly as if he could hear the workings of her mind out loud, she resigned herself to this fate because her family was in peril. And in that moment, as he watched her decide to throw away her future to save the ones she loved, he would have sworn the shadow of Liam fell across her face. The reflection of a young boy begging on behalf of his brother peered back at him.

"I understand," her voice was so meek it could have been lost to the wind had he not read the words on her lips. Then it became more firm, as if she found strength in the words as she said them. "I understand, but I will do what I have to get my family back."

He shook his head, trying to both expel his irritation and banish Liam's eyes from his mind, feeling the tightening within him again.

"But you won't," he bit out. She seemed confused. He knew she couldn't comprehend exactly what she was bargaining away. "You will never be reunited with your family. That was not the deal. You promised your soul to me, and in return I would save your family from Regina's manicured clutches." He noticed how she flinched at the woman's name with faint amusement and the slow realization of what he was spelling out.

"But-"

"I will save your family," he cut off her frail protest. "However, nowhere in that bargain did the words 'return them to you' appear. YOU ARE MINE NOW." He forced away the flinch at his own words feeling bile rise up in this throat. He had promised himself in another lifetime he would never say those word to another human. "By making this deal, you have effectively ensured that you will never see them again, be they rotting in Regina's dungeon or enthroned at your castle."

Her face had gone even paler than it already had been, a feat that mildly impressed him. Her eyes grew huge and he watched the life and light drain out of them. Two emotions warred in his gut- the immense satisfaction as all hope left the pathetic little creature before him and a clenching in the area where his heart used to be. The darkness hissed in displeasure.

He was sure that, once he had clearly explained it, she would refuse, back out. She was royalty after all. They were a selfish breed, no matter the stock they were bred from. He found his old bitterness at the thought and allowed it to wash over him, stoking the darkness and causing the hollow ache in his chest to fill with a black anger. He preferred it that way.

Tears began to pour afresh down her face and he scoffed, "Tears will not change the deal, _Princess._ You have bargained away your life." The words tasted like ash.

She blinked, and for a moment the strangest thing occurred. The morning seemed to still and it was as if all life except his own were frozen. He saw everything in a violent and blinding detail. The gentle sway of her blonde tresses in a sudden warm and comforting wind. The cool green of her tear stained eyes, the same shade as the Lost Lagoon in the sunlight. The gentlest touch of freckles across her porcelain skin, like constellations in the sunrise. The smell of the sea breeze and something cleaner and fresher. The cry of a gull overhead. The lightest encouraging creak of his ship as she rocked in a gentle surf. And a sensation that blossomed in the very depths of his soul as his eyes held hers. In that moment, he felt the tides of fate shift. He felt the magic.

Then she drew a shuddering breath and it passed, but something had been irreversibly altered. He could see it, could feel it even through the coiling darkness. Her back straightened, and he watched as the shadow of the queen she could be pass over her as she spoke, softly but with a steadiness that completely opposed the tears that still trailed down her cheeks. He knew her response before she uttered it.

"For my family, I'll do anything."

And so the deal was struck.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6.

The moment she summoned up the words, she felt something rise in her. For just a moment, she was unafraid. She could save her family. Her kingdom. Henry.

"For my family, I'll do anything."

She murmured the promise that signed away her very existence, and the terror came rushing back. His eyes widened in surprise, and in the corner of her heart, she felt a small flame of triumph at having surprised the great power before her. He had expected her to turn away and run. Well she wouldn't. She had come too far to abandon her family now. She would do anything to save Henry. But what was going to happen to her?

He remained silent for a moment, his red rimmed eyes swirling with an emotion she could not name as his shoulder seemed to drop, before he sucked in a breath. "As you wish," he sighed. He offered out his hand as a small swath of red-tinged black smoke obscured his fingers before clearing to reveal a rolled scroll and quill. She stared at it, confused.

He rolled his eyes as he bit out, "You sign it lass."

She started, before hesitantly reaching out to timidly remove the items from his palm, careful to avoid his skin. As she grasped the tip of the quill, she could see just how hard she was shaking. The trembling in her hand made the whole feather dance slightly. For Henry. She carefully unrolled the scroll, part of her wondering how she was going to keep the parchment open and sign at the same time. So she nearly dropped it when, once she had broken the wax seal, it unrolled itself in her hand.

She gave another startled yelp, jumbling the parchment, shooting a terrified glance at the man, which only prompted a quiet, mocking chuckle from him.

"Just magic, lass. Or had you forgotten who you were dealing with?"

Overwhelming hopelessness washed over her as she registered his words, his hollow eyes unwavering as he studied her.

"No," she croaked. "I'll never forget." She almost thought she saw him flinch, but she must have been mistaken, for the next moment, he gave a smug smile.

"Aye, see that you don't."

She swallowed hard, casting her eyes back down to the document in her hand. It was written in calligraphy, fine and sharp, with harsh down strokes and elegant curves. She actually lost herself for a moment in the art of the letters before her eyes took in the meaning of the words.

 _ **By this agreement, it is hereby sworn that Killian Jones, Dark One, known by moniker Hook, and Captain of the Vessel The Jolly Roger, does swear to rescue and guarantee the maintained safety of the Royal Family of Misthaven, excluding the signer of this contract. In return for the above named services, Emma, Crown Princess and heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Misthaven, does hereby willingly and without reservation, signs over her life, existence, and will to the creator of this contract, Captain Killian Jones, for as long as it is deemed necessary to repay the cost of effort put forth to fulfill this contract.**_

 _ **Should the latter party, in the name of Crown Princess Emma, fail to fulfill or attempt to escape the above terms of contract, her life and the lives of her family, such as who the bargain is intended to protect, are forfeit to the will, whim, and desire of the creator of this contract, Captain Killian Jones. Should the former party, Captain Killian Jones, fail to fulfill or attempt to escape the above terms of contract, this contract is rendered null and void, freeing Crown Princess Emma of any and all obligation to him and restoring her to the state of being present prior to the signing of this contract.**_

 _ **Both parties being agreed, the terms outlines are binding by all the ancient laws and rites and the terms of this contract take effect immediately upon the signing of this contract**_.

Despite her terror, she read over the contract with the same eye that her mother had taught her to use when reviewing treaties and trade agreements. And she, even as she resigned herself to her fate, had to acknowledge the wording was flawless and fair. She was actually slightly surprised that the contract contained any sort of repercussions for him ending his own deal. She had expected it to be heavily weighted in his favor, for he had nothing to gain by balancing out the deal as he had. It puzzled her.

Her consideration of the words caused her to forget her surrounding for a few moments, and she was so lost in trying to find the loophole, that she didn't notice his growing impatience.

"JUST SIGN THE BLOODY THING ALREADY!"

She screamed and startled so hard the parchment fell from her hands and she dropped the quill, jumping backward into the horse, who finally lost his temper. He reared up with a loud trumpet, front hooves flailing as he demanded the creature leave his liege lady alone. But with the wave of the demon's hand, he suddenly felt all his muscles freeze and the agony of something pressing into his chest.

"NO!" came the most awful screech his ear had ever had the displeasure of hearing before he watched his lady stagger forward to grab at the demon's arm. The sweet child was fighting for him.

She watched as his hand slid into the horse's chest without resistance, yanking out, ripping the heart from her loyal steed. At the sight something inside her snapped. The creature had done nothing but protect and cherish her, and she would not lose one more. She used both hands to grab his forearm, yanking on it with all her might. But pulling at his arm proved fruitless as he held the beating scarlet heart before him.

He seemed to be laughing at her as he regarded her useless struggle, a low melodious rumble that should have comforted her, but instead seemed to spread ice through her veins. Then suddenly she was pushed back with a harsh shoved from his hooked arm.

"No one, not even a horse, attacks the Dark One without retribution, lass. You'd do well to remember that," he said. He sounded almost jovial, like he hadn't enjoyed himself to such an extent in a long time. She watched in frozen horror as smoke swirled around the heart obscuring it as he squeezed. Her loyal beast let out a scream of agony as smoke swirled around him, before he vanished as what looked like sand poured from the man's hand.

His cold, empty eyes never left her face, a joy lighting them up with an insane fire as she watched him, helpless to do anything. She was so overwhelmed that she could do no more than stagger back a few steps from the abyss that swirled in his eyes.

"Well," he sounded like he had just received a marvelous gift, "that was refreshing." He casually dusted his hand on the sleeve of his hooked arm before turning to amble a few steps toward her with a smile, though his eye remained as shallow as ever.

"Let's get on with it lass," he pointed to the scroll and quill that lay in the sand.

Her whole world seemed to become distant as her eyes finally ran out of tears. As if her will was not her own, she collapsed, heaving with dry sobs, and reached for the parchment. Without a thought to the lack of ink, she followed the automatic motions of signing her name at the bottom of the page, watching the shaky letters appear in violent crimson in the morning light.. Once she finished, the quill and page were consumed by the same red-tinged black smoke that seemed characteristic of his magic, leaving her hands empty as she stared down at them.

"See that wasn't so hard now was it, lass?" came his cheery voice from above her. "Come along then." She registered hazily that his footsteps seemed to be moving away from her, but she could not think nor find the will to move. She had lost everything, her parents. Her kingdom. Henry. Even her loyal steed.

She just stared at her empty hands. Except they were not hers anymore. They were his. He owned them now. What would he ask of her? What would he make her do?

Her breath came in shorter and shorter bursts and her eyes found a new water source, sending fresh tears down her face. She began to grasp rapidly, almost feeling his ownership wrap around her chest like a vice, constricting her lungs and fogging her mind. Her vision began to go dark as her ear started to ring, fingers twitching uselessly in her lap.

She fell forward to the sound of his voice, the last thing she heard before she fell into a welcoming abyss.

"Oh, bloody hell."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7.

He noticed she wasn't dutifully following him and turned to watch her work herself into frenzy at the loss of her damn horse.

"Oh, bloody hell."

Seeing her on the brink of collapsing forward, he willed himself to her side in time to catch her limp form in his arms as she slumped forward. She was such a slight thing, frail as a little bird as he cradled her. He noticed tears ran down her face, even in her slumber, a slight tremble shaking her limbs.

Damn fool of a woman. How could someone be so distraught over the loss of a simple animal? No wonder she had been in such a state when he arrived. If she collapsed in a fit for a horse, how had she handled the loss of her parents?

 _Not well_ was the obvious answer, given that she had just signed her soul away to him. He shook his head at the foolish woman before him.

He hadn't even killed the damn horse. He wasn't sure why he hadn't. But with his ship's rebuke still ringing in his ears, he felt the need to find a way to satisfy the dark craving for her pain while doing no lasting damage to the beast. And sleight of hand had been such an easy thing before he had the power to summon items at will. It had been simple to exchange the heart he held for some of the sand at his feet while at the same time willing the steed to a nearby glen, heart safely stored in one of his boxes in the hold.

He was going soft. Over a _bloody horse._

With another frustrated shake of his head, he shifted her form so he could hold her more comfortably, a hand under her knees and his arm around her back. As he pushed himself to standing, savoring the strain of lifting, her body lolled against him, head rocking gently to his shoulder. She was so warm. He sighed at himself before making his way toward the ship, willing the sea to separate so he could board his ship without getting his boots wet. This time, his ship had no rebuke.

He heard her bell ring in a question as her timbers creaked in concern, but he heard the crackling of irritation at his actions toward the horse coming from her sails. "Aye she's fine, just worked herself into a state. And before you decide to hit me over the head with another bit of rope, the bloody horse is fine. The damn creature just beyond the ridge."

And something happened he had never experienced- his ship went still in surprise. He couldn't help the triumphant smile that twisted his lips as he stepped off the gangplank and onto the deck.

"Oh nothing to say?" he mocked. He was expecting a sarcastic quip from her, so her quiet murmur as she drew up the gangplank behind him unsettled him. Quiet as the wind's caress as it tousled his hair.

No, not this time dear one.

His whole being contracted with sudden emotion. She had not called him that in many decades. She would whisper that name as she sang to him during the long nights when visions of his old master beating him or his brother bloody would keep him from his rest, and later when nightmares of his brother and his lover's deaths would have him wandering the decks in the twilight hours, trying to find solace in the stars.

"Aye," he choked out, before turning harshly; trying to swallow past the tightness in his throat and the warm glow her words had ignited in his chest. Between that comforting feeling that now sat low in his belly and the warmth of the woman in his arms, he felt the most peculiar sensation spreading under his skin.

Shaking his head, he marched to the hatch below decks, trying to master himself, to reign in the sudden upwelling of emotion he had been experiencing since he had arisen his morning. A sunrise that had brought a truly new day with it.

He came to the hatch, which popped open of its own accord, and he couldn't help the incredulous smile on his lips. For a moment, with his ship once again alive around him, it was as if he was still the man he used to be. But as the woman shifted and whimpered in his arms, fresh tears falling, sniffling quietly in her sleep, the feeling passed and the awareness of the hell he had willing consigned himself to brought the darkness back with it, crowing in triumph.

There would be no going back to the man he had been. It was a foolish thought, and self-loathing that he wanted anything other than this, the completion of his revenge, had him stomping down the stairs below decks to throw the lass in his arms into one of the hammocks in the empty crew's quarters. But when he had made his way to the entrance, the door swung shut and locked itself with a mocking click.

The vitriol that left his mouth was most likely uncalled for, but the continued defiance of non-humans to his will today was grating on him. "If you do not open that bloody door this instant, I will drop her right here. I am the BLOODY DARK ONE and I have had it with BOATS THINKING THEY KNOW BETTER THAN-"

And for the first time since he had boarded her three centuries before, his boat sprang a leak. That sprayed him straight in the face with sea water.

"ENOUGH!" The water abruptly stopped as his magic lashed out, gleefully following his dark intent, feeding on his anger and embarrassment, and black flames consumed the inner layer of siding, charring it black in a matter of seconds. A groan of agony shook the entire hull as she screamed. The door to the crew's quarters fell open, as if she no longer had the strength to hold it shut. He quickly passed through the door and dumped the unconscious woman into the closest hammock, trying to ignore the sickening guilt he felt rising up in him like bile.

For a moment his hand itched to brush the locks of blonde hair away from her face as she settled, but his rage was still blinding. He whirled away and out into the corridor with a snarl. He eyed the charred wood as he slammed the door shut behind him, and tried to feel triumph at the brutal destruction he had wrought. But there were still trembles in the planks beneath him as she continued to shudder, whether in fear or in pain, he didn't know. And he shouldn't care. But he could hear her wheezing.

It felt as if he himself was having trouble breathing suddenly, a feeling of dizzying sickness spread out from his gut, the likes of which he hadn't felt since hearing his brother's screams under the lash. He staggered forward, his palm falling squarely in the center of the blackened circle in the wood. It was still searing hot and he felt his palm beginning to blister as he tried to get his lungs to work again.

Why dear one?

He jerked his hand back, gasping harshly, cradling his hand close to his chest. He had to get away from here. And rum. He needed lots of rum.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 8.

 _She dreamt of being cradled in dead arms and being held in the coils of a black snake that hissed and spit icy venom. Then she was falling. Suddenly Regina was before her, laughing lowly as her parents disappeared in a cloud of purple-black smoke and the her son screaming for her, reaching out to her from where he was encircled in Regina's arms, but despite how desperately she tried, she could not reach him. She screamed his name, watching as he too vanished in a plume of smoke, and she was left alone in the darkness, running._

 _But the strings that now directed her limbs, as if she were a marionette, got tangled and she fell. Thrashing, she could not free herself as her limbs became more and more entangled, until she was unable to move at all. She screamed and begged her parents, Henry, anyone, to help her, but no one answered and she was left bound, alone, and hopeless in the dark._

 _Then there was music. A sweet lullaby as ancient as the Forest itself, and it swirled around her, soothing her fears and loosening her bonds. A warm feeling bloomed inside her, soothing her, while all around her the smell of the ocean breeze swirled. Then in the distance, she watched a shimmering form of white dance its way through the darkness, getting closer. She didn't know what it was, but she felt no fear from it, for somehow she knew that it was familiar to her, like a lullaby, long forgotten._

 _It shimmered and swayed to the gentle music that surrounded them, leaving trails of fading illumination and sparks behind it, like a living torch of pure light. For a while she watched it and her eyes could not perceive any finite form, but slowly, so gradually she didn't realize it was happening until it was finished, the light shifted into the form of a swan flying gracefully about her. She watched as it finally landed gracefully._

 _A black snake reared up in front of it, hissing and spitting, trying to bite at its neck. She felt terror begin to disturb her peace as the snake lunged, managing to get around the swan to begin wrapping around its body. It coiled more and more tightly as its head reared back, until the swan was completely pinned. But it seemed to show no concern over its own predicament and it slowly dipped its head until it and the black snake where eye to eye, staring. Waiting._

She awoke very suddenly to semi-darkness and the small of the sea. She tried to get her bearings groggily. Why was her bed swaying? Her bed didn't sway. Then she jerked upright as the memories of the last day rushed back. Regina. Her family. Her kingdom. Henry. The Dark One. She began to tear up, sniffling in an attempt to try and keep the tears at bay.

She was pulled from her sorrows when she thought she heard something like whispering, but it was put from her mind when floorboards creaked near the open doorway and suddenly light illuminated the cabin as it poured through the doorway. Someone was standing outside whatever room she was in. Panic seized her as she tried to gracefully slide from her bed. Which she discovered was not a bed when she shifted and it dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor.

The wood around her creaked for a moment, and it was like a ghost of a laugh reached her ears, but then the light source began to dim as a floorboard farther from the doorway creaked.

"Hello? Who's there? Da-dark One?" she called timidly, but there was no answer. The light did seem to get closer to the doorway before moving away again. Like it was waiting. She got to her feet, wondering why she was so unsteady before the smell and sway clicked with the slightly sloping wood beneath her feet. She was on a ship. _His_ ship. She swallowed, forcing back the prickling of tears and made her way toward the doorway, cautiously looking around it to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was holding the lantern.

But there was no one there, just an overhead oil lamp swaying slightly back and forth, illuminating a small patch of the passageway and a black char mark curving up the hull. She wondered how in the world it had been lit when she heard a creak from down the passageway behind her, and the darkness farther down the walkway was illuminated from a light around a corner. Was this some kind of game for the Dark One's amusement? She hesitated, wondering if she should just stay in her little swing bed.

But then she heard the distant whispering again. There had to be someone there. So she carefully made her way forward, preparing to meet him or some other horrid creature when she turned the corner, but there was again no one. She felt fear building, but it was also accompanied by a strange sort of curiosity. And the sense of faint singing. She wasn't sure if it was lingering from her dreams though, for when she stopped to try and really listen for it, she could not hear it any more.

So she continued forward, from narrow hall to narrow hall until she rounded one last corridor. A single lamp hung from the rafter of a short hallway that led to to a single door. And as she watched, she heard the lock click open and the door unlatch, before she watched it crack open ever so slightly. But as the door opened, it seemed to unleash a gust of wind that swept by her, extinguishing the lantern, sending a shiver of apprehension down her spine and leaving her in darkness.

She quickly turned, but was shocked to see the way behind her was now pitch black. She turned back, feeling her limbs start to tremble as she saw soft light slipping through the crack open door. So she carefully walked forward and when she stood just before the doorway and raised her hand to knock, the door swung open completely.

She felt terror well up and for a moment she hesitated, but just as she was about to turn back, she thought she heard the soft singing again. It was almost like it whispered strength and courage straight into her soul and she found the will to step over the threshold and into the room.

It was dark, except for the moonlight spilling in through the glass windows at the back of the room. Curious, she walked forward, slightly startled when her feet encountered soft and plush carpet. She slowly wandered further into the room, taking in a ladder just to her right that seemed to lead to above deck, and a built in wardrobe just beyond it. Books lined up against the curving wall under the window and there was a table surrounded by chairs at the center of the room, both bare of any sort of decorative adornment. Right in front of the doorway was a small bunk, the blankets pulled tight and the pillows arranged just so. Against the wall across from the bunk was a small side table and several chests. And while the room was plain, the ornamentation on the wooden cross beams, gilt with gold, indicated fine craftsmanship.

Suddenly she realized exactly where she was. The Captain's Quarters. Her heart doubled its pace and she turned to flee the room, terrified of what he might do when she heard a quiet groan. She froze, unsure if it had been real or not. For a long moment the darkness was undisturbed and she was about to turn away when it came again, louder this time.

It sounded like someone in pain. Her heart clenched, and her maternal instinct to soothe and protect flared up and drove her cautiously around the desk. What she saw brought her up short. A dark form was leaning up against the siding, just under the windows, slumped over, clearly unconscious. She saw several bottles shimmer bleakly in the moonlight around him.

Part of her wanted to leave him, as what ailed him had become abundantly clear. But remembering the sorrow behind the darkness in his eyes, something compelled her heart and with a light sigh, borne partly from exasperation at him and partly from apprehension of his reaction to her intrusion should he wake, she stepped forward.

She softly crept up and knelt down beside him, getting a sudden nose full of the acrid smell of stale rum and body sweat. She wrinkled her nose before carefully reaching out to brush his arm, wondering if that might wake him enough to get him to stand. She knew she wouldn't be able to lift him up by her own power.

At her touch, he whimpered slightly, flinching in his sleep, but she could a slit of blue as his eyes barely opened. They looked almost white in the moonlight. She watched as their glossy gaze moved around the darkened room, trying to understand. She brushed his arm again and they finally wandered onto her face. The fierce coldness and stern power that had frozen her in their encounter on the beach was gone. Now he just looked lost and weary, and though she felt fear, she was also certain that he was not really aware, despite being awake. The thought gave her the courage she needed to stay.

"Am I dead?" he whispered quietly. His voice was hoarse, like he had been screaming. His eyes roamed her form without recognition as he waited for her to answer him.

"No," she answered softly, wondering why that would be his first thought. And why he said it with what sounded like relief.

His brow furrowed. "I'm not?" he rasped, sounding disappointed.

And in that moment, despite knowing exactly what he was and what the stories said he had done, he looked so much like her son when he was in need of comfort that she couldn't help reaching forward to gently brush the fringe of his hair away from his face. As her touch, a visible tremor passed through him and he closed his eyes, gently pressing his face into her palm. In that moment, she suddenly felt that despite all the power and all the darkness that dwelled in him, under it all, he was just a sad and broken man.

They stayed that way for a long while, her hand on his cheek as he leaned into the comfort she freely offered. Though his eyes were closed, she could tell he was still awake, for every once and awhile, his brows would twitch and furrow and then his head would shake slightly, like a displeasing thought had crossed his mind and he was trying to be rid of it.

But eventually, she knew he was wandering perilously close to falling asleep again, so she slowly withdrew her hand, her heart clenching when what like an involuntary whimper passed from his lips before his eyes cracked open again.

"Can you stand?" she asked quietly. He blinked and looked down at his legs, as if considering a new concept. Then without responding, he slowly shifted to try and get his feet under him. He managed to get one knee under himself before he began to sway forward and instinctively she ducked her head under his arm, wrapping an arm about his waist and the other holding tightly to his arm just above his hook. She could feel the brace through the material of his sleeve, only just realizing that his leather great coat and vest were missing, leaving him in only a linen shirt and leather trousers.

As they moved slowly to the bed, her supporting a majority of his weight, she thought she heard him murmur, "You've never helped me to bed before, old girl." Her brow furrowed but she didn't bother asking him to clarify, as he was obviously delirious enough to think she was someone else. But it made her curious to know who he thought was saving him from himself. They finally made it to the neatly made bunk. She eased him down on top of the covers, knowing she would never be able to get him beneath the covers.

She noticed when he braced his hand on the bed he winced. Once he had slowly rolled to lay on his back and his weight was settled, she quickly pulled his boots and socks off, throwing them to the opposite corner of the room, before whispering softly, "Let me see your hand." He blinked up at her from where he had allowed his head to fall, brow furrowing again as he tried to figure out what she was asking.

Sensing that he wasn't going to get there anytime soon, she hesitantly reached out, careful to keep his sleeve between them, and drew his hand up to her lap. He resisted for a moment before his muscles went limp and she was able to pull his hand to where she could see it in the moonlight spilling in from the window behind her. The palm was an angry red, shiny and swollen, like a vicious burn covered his whole palm.

"How did this happen?" she gasped, heart clenching despite herself. He looked up at her worried face then down at his palm with a curious expression, like he had forgotten his skin had melted in places.

"Deserved it," he murmured, syllables beginning to slur together. She watched as his head relaxed into the bed and his eyes slid shut as he slipped into unconsciousness. She thought he was asleep as she gently traced her fingertip around the burns. The she heard one more quiet murmur.

"I deserve to burn."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9.

He returned to awareness like he was surfacing from deep under water. Slowly at first, but the closer to the surface, the faster it went, until he cracked open his eyes. His mind, groggy as it was, began cataloguing the differences from the last time he had been fully aware. He was horizontal, he was comfortable, and he was hungover. None of these things had been as such when he had last been fully conscious.

Since becoming the Dark One, he had never been drunk. He was actually surprised at the fact that he had lost consciousness, given the fact that the darkness kept him from sleep for the last thirty years. He didn't realize he could get drunk. The few times he had tried, his magic burned off the alcohol almost as soon as it entered his system, but the amount of rum he had imbibed the previous night had bordered on obscene. Had he been anything less than immortal, he probably would have managed to kill himself with the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

Bloody shame it didn't. He sighed and summoned up a small thread of magic to soothe the throbbing behind his eyes. He gave a hiss of relief as his pain slowly faded, and he began to sit up. Once his mind was free of the pulsing of his heartbeat, he suddenly heard something that made him freeze. A quiet lullaby was whispering throughout his quarters. Was his ship _singing?_

"What the bloody hell?" he muttered, finishing sitting up and swinging his feet over the side of the bunk to drop them to the floor. His bare feet. Which had not been bare the night before. He braced his hands on the edge of the bed, glaring down at his feet accusingly, trying to understand their uncovered state, and how they had managed to get that way. He wiggled his toes, trying to get them to talk, as he allowed his mind to sift through the haze of the evening before.

He remembered fleeing from his guilt into his stock of rum in the hold, using his magic to drag half his store of the liquor up to his cabin. He started in his chair, cursing and taking deep draughts between his oaths. Then he made his way to pacing, muttering to the voices in his head. By that point, he had made it through about half of the bottles he had brought up from the hold. He had eventually found his way onto the floor in the corner and then he could remember no more.

He cast his eyes about the room in the morning light, noticing that despite being essentially black out drunk, his body still rose with the sun. His toes still hadn't answered him.

He tried to remember what happened after he had slid to the floor in the corner. He had yanked his jacket and vest off at one point and at another he thought he recollected whispering broken apologies and sweet nothings to the wood as he caressed the floorboards under his hand. But beyond that, he could not figure out how he had made it from the corner behind his desk into his bed- and _shoeless_ no less.

He leveled one last glare toward his toes before standing and stretching, searching around for his vest briefly before simply giving into his disinterest and just summoning it to his hand. Putting it on leisurely, he wandered over to his desk, feeling the floorboards vibrating lightly under his feet. She was still singing.

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you this morning, old girl?" he queried, finding the numerous empty glass bottles from the night before scattered on the ground behind his chair. With a wave of his hand, he banished them to the crate in the hold where they joined their fellows, to wait until he could fill them when he next made port. "And where the bloody hell are my shoes?"

He heard her interrupt her song to chuckle lightly before returning to her quiet melody. Losing what little patience he possessed in the morning, he just muttered, "Ah damn it all," and summoned his socks and shoes onto his feet. He was about to do the same to his leather duster when he saw it pooled in a pile by the door.

Suddenly, he had the vague memory of throwing it there with a curse after he had struggled to remove it, along with a petulant promise to never oil the damn thing again.

With a light sigh of embarrassment, he picked it up off the floor and shook it out, waving his hand, applying the treatment that used to take hours to the leather in moments. Then he moodily stuffed his arms in the sleeves before yanking the cabin door open to stomp up the stairs and into the morning air, as he had ever other morning.

Another bloody sunrise in the solitu- the thought cut off suddenly as he caught sight of a figure standing up on the foredeck, looking out over the rails at the rising sun.

 _The bloody princess_. The darkness hissed at her silhouette. The memory of his deal from the day before came rushing back, and he ran a hand through his hair as he considered the circumstances. Scratching the back of his head, he thought about just turning back around and returning to his cabin, but the wind was blowing, the sea smelled fresh, and for the first time in decades, his ship was singing to him in the sunrise. Only a bloody fool would turn away from such a glorious morning, and though the darkness ran through his veins, the sea had been his life blood for far longer, and it called to him in a summons he could not resist.

With a sigh, he dropped his hand and stepped up onto the main deck, quietly making his way up to her. He reached up to grab the rail as he ascended the steps when he caught sight of his hand. His only hand. The hand that should have been blistered and red and absolutely throbbing with pain. His perfectly fine hand.

He ended up standing there with his arm half outstretched like a fool for a few moments as he processed this latest development in his morning. First his horizontalness. Then his bare feet. And now his uninjured hand. It stirred a memory of a ghost. A being made of light. A warm touch that spread a warmth he had not felt since he had lain in Milah's arms. A fragile hand clutching at his arm, grasping at his hooked wrist as if it was whole.

He shook his head at the vision, trying to free his mind from the odd funk it had fallen into. It must have been the rum. But within, he felt the darkness read and coil as is preparing for a fight.

He finished his assent to the foredeck, pleased that she hadn't heard him approach. For a moment he just observed her. Her face was away from him, but he could read the defeat in her shoulders, the way she clutched at the rail for support. He could see how her body trembled with exhaustion. And at her quiet sniffle, he felt something in him clench at the sound.

Comfort her, dear one.

He cast a skeptical and amused glance at the main mast as he tried to shake the unsettling sensation. The bloody woman had done this to herself. He wouldn't try to make her feel better about it. The darkness radiated its approval at the thought.

Besides, he had to plan how to get her family back to the castle and way to ensure that _Her Royal Evilness_ would not be a further problem. He was aware that he had guaranteed the on-going safety of her family, something his predecessor would have laughed at, hence why he was always insistent that he promise ongoing satisfaction for his deal makers. He didn't want to be like his forebear. But he was well aware how delicate the situation was.

But while he was busy planning and gathering information, someone had to care for his girl. And that's where his slave- he flinched internally at the thought- came in. She would do what he normally would. And since he could tell she had never done a hard day's work in her life, he was sincerely looking forward to watching her struggle in doing so. At the thought of her on her knees trying to scrub the decks had him delighted, mind painting picture after picture of her, allowing his grin to grow predatorily as the darkness took his thoughts to more unseemly places. A princess on her knees is a rare thing after all.

With his grin and newfound good humor in place, he crept up as close as he could to her form without touching her, before whispering lowly in her ear.

"Are you ready to begin, _Princess_?"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10.

"Are you ready to begin, _Princess_?"

She startled violently, jerking hard away from the rails and out of the longing despair she was feeling for her son. But her step back was halted abruptly as her flinch pressed the entirety of her back up against him. At the sudden contact, she froze, trembling as her frayed nerves were set off yet again, made even more sensitive after her sleepless night.

She felt his low rumbling chuckle as he pressed his form into her for a moment before stepping back. She scrambled to pull away from him, feeling again, as she did, the ache in her muscles and the searing pain of her raw thighs, chafed to bleeding from the extended ride in the saddle the day before.

She noticed the ship creaking ominously, and as she turned she saw his face set in a scowl as he glared at something over his shoulder before he turned back. His smirk slid so easily into place that it was hard to believe his expression had been anything else. His eyebrow crawled mockingly up his forehead as he watched her try to recover from her shock.

As he stayed quiet, she realized he had asked her a question and was waiting for her answer. She swallowed hard. "Wh- ready to begin what?"

His smile grew, and an unsettling gleam flashed in his eyes. She shivered as another violent tremble racked her body. Her muscles ached. The skin of her thighs burned. His grin grew.

"Why your service aboard my ship! You signed your existence over to me after all. Or did you forget?" She swallowed again, not even bothering to try and conceal her fear.

"No," her voice was a hoarse croak. "No, I haven't forgotten." Against her will, her hands clutched at the front of her white ermine cloak as thoughts of what he could possibly want of her crossed her mind.

As if by the very magic he wielded, his smile vanished as his eyes flicked downward to where her hands grasped frantically at her cloak.

"Oh have no fear of _that_ princess," he spat. She felt a shadow overtake her, as if he had cast a pallor over the rising sun. He seemed to shift into her shadow, as the dawn was behind her, and his whole form darkened. The blue of his eyes vanished, and suddenly, she understood how this man had slain a creature that was thought to be un-killable. She could see the madness. The darkness.

"I have never touched a person for my own pleasure without their consent, and I have no plans on changing that fact. I'll thank you to keep such thoughts far from your mind _Your Ladyship,"_ he growled venomously at her. "And even if I would consent to such actions, you're hardly my type."

She felt her trembling strengthen at his cold, hard tone. But a small sliver of her, deep in her gut, felt her will, a sensation rose up in her, making the words tumbled from her mouth without her consent, in a retort she would never have dared to utter to her closest friends, let alone the man before her.

"How fortunate for me I am not your type then, _Captain._ "

As soon as the words left her, she slapped a hand over her mouth in shock. His dark expression vanished in surprise as he jerked slightly at her retort. But then they were both distracted as the very timbers under their feet began to pitch and shake, and she grasped wildly at the rails to steady herself, though he appeared unmoved. It felt as if the ship itself were trying to shake apart. Every grain of wood from the deck to the mast seemed as if it was vibrating, and the sails were flapping wildly.

His attention switched from her to look over his shoulder again toward the helm. She watched the one eyebrow visible to her creep up his face the longer the ship shook. It took several minutes for the shaking to subside, during which his expression had changed from one of faint entertainment to irritation. When the last tremors stilled, he rounded on her.

She flinched back at his dark glare, her hand gripping the wood of the rail tightly. A part of her registered that the wood beneath her fingertips was warm, despite the morning air. He regarded her dispassionately for a moment before his gaze swept over her body. Despite his earlier words, she could not hold back the apprehension.

"Right, well, back to the matter at hand. I made a deal with you to get your family to safety. But in order to do that, I have to leave the ship. Which means that I won't be on board to take care of her." He paused, and after a moment she understood where he was going.

"You want me to-"

"Aye, you'll be tending to her in my absence." He gave her a sarcastic smile. "I can leave some small enchantments behind to ensure she stays on course, but her decks won't swab themselves." And at that moment, the most peculiar feeling overcame her. It was as if someone were standing too close to her and breathing on her neck. And for whatever reason, she knew that there was a lie in what he had just told her. But she did not dare to say anything. He still had the faintest glint of that overpowering darkness in his eye.

When she didn't visibly react to his pronouncement, he popped an eyebrow, bringing his hand up to play with his beard as he mockingly approved, "Ah grand, you are already resigned to that then! I thought when I told you, you'd start crying again. No matter." His words sent another bolt of indignation through her, but she again kept silent.

He gestured vaguely with his hand before dropping it to his belt buckle. On instinct, her eyes followed the motion, and once she had caught herself, her eyes jumped back up to his, hoping he hadn't noticed. But his lecherous smirk said otherwise and she felt a violent flush heat up her face.

"You may not be in my taste, but perhaps I might be yours?" His needling left her flustered and completely discomposed. She had not even had a thought like that cross her mind since her husband had left for the Ogre Wars, and left carrying their son.

But now that he had brought those thoughts forward, she couldn't help cataloguing his qualities before catching what she was doing. She grasped at something to get his knowing eyes away from her increasingly high flush, as if he could hear her thoughts as she had them.

"And uh.. I... uh.. wha- what exactly will I be doing?"

His smirk widened. For a moment she didn't understand why what she had said would increase his amusement, but then she thought over her word choice and felt the blush rise higher. She was afraid he was going to say something, but after a moment of apparently savoring her discomfort and her unintentional implication, he allowed his smile to slip.

"You'll be doing what I tell you. Every morning on the days that I will be away from her, I will leave you a list of instructions. I expect them to be finished before you retire every evening. They will vary from cleaning the decks to tidying the hold. Some chores will need to be done every day. And speaking of," he said again eyeing her critically, "here."

He held out his hand and a plume of smoke obscured it, before clearing to reveal what looked like a bundle of cloth. She stared at it confused before he shook it lightly at her and she realized that he intended for her to take it. She reached out and grabbed the bundle, surprised at the quality of the cloth. Even by touch alone, she could tell it was both sturdy and high quality material.

"These should fit you well enough. I'll leave clean clothes along with the list every morning. When you've gotten ready for the day, just leave the pile outside your door."

She nodded hesitantly, but her uncertainty must have shown on her face.

"For the first few, I'll leave you with detailed instructions on how, or if I'm aboard, I'll walk you through it. Aye?"

She nodded again before feeling her stomach rumble. Suddenly it hit her that she had not eaten in almost two days, and a sudden wave of vertigo overcame her. She tried to stay upright but it was as if the realization had sucked the strength from her already exhausted and aching limbs.

She swayed once and then started to fall, expecting to hit the deck. She was surprised when she felt his arms around her. She noticed the strength in them and the warmth, where every other touch thus far had been cold.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you now, woman?"

She realized her eyes had drifted shut and with some effort, she managed to get them open. His face was right above hers, his eyes regarding her with impatient exasperation. She again noticed, now that the shadow had disappeared from their depths, how tired he looked.

"My apologies." She tried to stir herself into standing, but was a little taken aback when, instead of letting her go, his arms tightened around her.

He must have seen something in her face, "There's no point in letting you stand up. You'd just bloody fall over again."

She nodded at the logic. But she felt the need to defend herself to him, so she quietly explained, "I am sorry. I've not eaten in a while and it all seemed to come to a head just then." She swallowed as the sudden memory for why she hadn't eaten had her choking up. Once she managed to gain what little control she could over her emotions, she insisted, "But truly, I can manage."

At her words, his eyes softened ever so slightly, "Aye, that's a better reason for collapsing than the last time you did so, and more easily remedied, I'd wager. But if you insist."

She couldn't help the tiny smile at his almost playful prodding as she nodded in agreement. He slowly set her down, and she managed to keep her feet under her, clutching the bundle of clothes tightly, though she leaned on him heavily. He kept her secure to his side as he oriented them toward the hatch that led below deck. As she stepped however, she whimpered as the pain in her thighs flared, making her knees weak, and pitching her forward slightly.

With an exasperated sigh but without hesitation, he simply bent and grasped her legs, picking her up completely. She let out a gasp of shock as she clutched at him tightly with her free hand in reaction to her sudden change in position.

"Relax, Princess, I'm not gonna drop you." She did as he asked, releasing her tight grip on his neck and letting her hands slide down until they were pressed against his chest, toying with the fabric of the clothes he had given her. She could feel his heart beat faintly through the fabric of his shirt where her head was pressed against him. "What a fragile little bird you are. A few missed meals and you can't even stand." He shook his head as he began walking across the deck.

She felt herself blush anew at his words, and tried find a way to explain. "No its not- I mean I am a bit faint but- It's not... I'm..."

She trailed off, not wanting to discuss the state of her thighs with a strange man. She suddenly became hyper-aware of where her body pressed against his. Her heart rate jumped as she flushed and stared down at her hands, fidgeting with a seam she found, trying to ignore the way his arms wrapped around her or how she was pressed to his chest. His shirt was hanging open right in front of her face, so his shoulder and hair covered chest were visible if she cared to look. Which she didn't.

Her reluctance to explain seemed to have piqued his amused curiosity. "Aye? If it's not lack of food that has you feeling faint, what is it?"

For a moment she was tempted to just let it go, but when he followed up an almost concerned sounding, "Lass?" she steeled herself.

"Ihavearashfromthehorsesaddle," she mumbled out as quickly as she could. He stopped walking and she looked up at him more out of pure reaction to the cessation of movement than anything. And immediately regretted it. He had a broad smile on his face and his eyebrows danced merrily up his forehead.

"Try that again, lass," he said, and she could hear the laughter in his voice. She had the feeling he had heard her well enough the first time, but repeated herself politely at his request, the habits of court simply too strong to deny.

She looked down to stare at her hands again, willing away her embarrassment, "I have a rash on my thighs from the horse saddle. My legs hurt too much to stand now."

She felt, more than heard his answering chuckle. "Aye, see now that wasn't so difficult to get out now was it princess?"

She still felt the mortification of talking about such an intimate area with a stranger, her _master_ no less. She refused to answer him and continued to stare at the bundle in her hands as she felt him step into motion again.

But she violently started when she felt something cool and soothing creeping up her legs from where she pressed into him, though she was separated from his arm by the fabric of both of their garments. For a brief second she struggled, but his arms held her fast. And a moment later, the sensation had reached the edge of her blistered flesh and her muscles went limp, her eyes fluttering shut at the relief it brought. It soothed away the burn as it crept across her skin, easing her discomfort and relaxing the tension in her cramped and aching muscles.

She let out the slightest of whimpers as the painful burn in her upper legs finally subsided and thought she felt him miss a half step, his arms twitching ever so slightly, but the relief was too refreshing to open her eyes. She noticed that once it had reached the top of the abused area, the sensation crept no further, and she suddenly understood that his words from earlier had been spoken with true sincerity. He had unleashed a magic she could not fight, and could easily have taken advantage of her state without actually touching her, but did not, keeping his power to only the area he was trying to mend. Although why he was bothering was beyond her.

A few steps later, she felt the air change, and she opened her eyes, expecting to see the little hallway by the room she had woken in. But instead, she took in a familiar surroundings. The Captain's Quarters seemed warmer and more welcoming in the light of the rising sun pouring through the open door. She noticed that despite the manner in which she had found him the night previous, he was quite tidy, with nothing out of place. The glass bottles that had been scattered around the night before were gone.

He continued forward and she saw that he was bringing her to the same bunk she had helped him to last night. At the approach, she could not help the small anxiety that had her tensing, and it was clear he felt it, when he let out a light sigh above her. Once they had reached the bunk, he bent slowly, sliding his hands out from under her quickly, seeming to pull the coolness away with him, leaving behind only the shadow of the sensation on her now painless thighs.

"You are welcome to these quarters for the duration of your stay, unless I tell you that I require them. Other than that, feel free to use this room as you see fit," he said as he straightened, tone tight and curt. She thought she heard something rattle in the walls, and glanced around but saw nothing. When her eyes returned to his face, he had a tired but almost affectionate grin on his face that quickly vanished when he saw her looking.

He waved a hand and she started as a small table with a tray of food appeared next to the bed. "Since you are recovering from your arduous ride, and an exhausted crew member is more a hassle than help, I am deferring the start of your labor until tomorrow. I will begin making the needed arrangement for my end of the bargain. The door and the hatch both lock from the inside, if you feel the need to do so. Have a pleasant evening princess."

With that, he abruptly turned and made to leave the cabin. His words echoed in her head for a moment before she finally found what she wanted to say.

"Thank you, Captain," she murmured across the room. He froze with his hand on the door, preparing to pull it shut behind him. And although he didn't turn, she knew she had captured his attention. "I know that you could have taken advantage of me in the most abominable of ways or simply refused to help me. And..." her voice faltered as tears welled up again, imagining being unable to help Henry. She sniffled quietly as she pushed the image away. She thought she may have seen his hand tightened on the door.

"And I know I will never see them again, but I can't regret my decision to come to you for aid." She sniffled again, but was determined to finished. "Thank you for accepting my offer. I deeply grateful. More than you can know."

For a moment, he was still. Even the ship and the breeze were silent. It was odd, but as she looked at him from across the room, it almost looked like the air around him was swirling with shadows of various densities, writhing like the silhouette of a snake in firelight. As she watched, the air around him darkened, seeming to tighten around his form. She thought she heard a shaky sigh before he was marching up the stairs, pulling the door with him. Just before it shut, though, he paused.

"You are welcome, your highness." Then the door slammed shut, leaving her alone.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11.

"You are welcome, Your Majesty."

He closed the door behind him as he started back up to the helm, completely unaware of where he was going. He was too lost in his thoughts.

The little bit of a woman who had invaded his life was leaving him very unsettled. He recalled when he had first seen her cry on the beach- he had felt something clench deep in his belly. He had immediately felt that he did not like to see this woman, this stranger, in tears. And every moment after that seemed to had further pulled the rug from beneath him.

She feared him, and yet she had willingly given herself up to him. She was weak, and yet had strength enough to find a way to save her family and her people. She was afraid of being alone, and yet willingly consigned herself to a future bereft of her family.

She had thanked him, despite how he had treated and mocked her. She was grateful. He didn't understand her thoughts and that intrigued him. Most people were simple. She wasn't. She was a challenge. He loved a challenge.

But there were still some aspects he couldn't quite shake that disturbed him. Since that strange moment on the beach, when he seemed to feel the strings of fate alter around them, something had been creeping under his skin. It was worse the closer she was to him. It felt as if she was emitting something into the air he was breathing that tamped down the darkness in his veins and let the old habits, his old life, surface. He didn't quite like the way he had felt when his magic had interacted with her directly.

When she had mentioned the saddle sores on her thighs, every fiber within his being demanded that he alleviate her pain. He had a strange thought that the darkness was separate from him, because it was the only thing within him that wasn't screaming at him to return to her.

It was strange, for with the exception of his own injuries, he had never used his power to help another heal. If he had to deal with mending another through the course of one of his deals, he used potions or other sacred relics to provide the magic that was needed. He didn't even know his magic could be used for such things. He had vehemently refused to try and understand his power beyond what his emotion desired.

But at the knowledge of her pain, every aspect of him, from slave to soldier to shipmaster, demanded he take action. So he instinctively allowed the magic to flow out of him to her. And as the power extended across her skin, the strangest thing had happened. He had felt as if something had crept back along the connection, interacting with his soul as his magic interacted with her body. And he knew the moment she felt true relief from her pain because within himself, he felt silence. His mind was not clamoring. His soul was not in anguish. The darkness was not spitting its demands. His whole being was quiet.

And then she had let out that damn little moan as she had shifted in his arms. It seemed like whatever silence had found him was what allowed his body to react so strongly to her. He tried to put out the soft warmth of her skin and the way she had clung to him out of his mind.

It was almost without thinking he had brought her to his own chambers, some ancient part of him demanding better for her. Demanding that if he was to be her task master, that she not fear a raised hand like he had. That she not fear the darkness of the interior of the ship because she did not know if something was coming to offer abuse.

She had bound herself to his ship, but it would be _his_ actions that would dictate whether or not she was a slave.

And once he had released her to the bed, the silence disappeared and the cacophony began again. It was drowned out when his girl had practically giggled with joy at his offer to the woman to use his quarters. But he did feel a lingering presence within him, like the memory of thought. His body had cried out at the loss of contact. Suddenly, he had needed to remove himself from her. To get away from what she was doing to him. To hide from her light.

Then she had to go and offer the most sincere thanks he had heard in centuries. As he had stood there at the door, he felt as if a war was going on inside him. He also felt as if something were gently holding him, wrapping him in comfort. It was like a siren song inside him, urging him to return to the woman and bask in her presence, to allow her purity to wash his soul clean. The princess's gratitude seemed to have lit an ember in his cold heart that flushed his entire being with safety and light.

But at the same time, the darkness had thrashed wildly, biting deeply into him and dredging up memories he would rather forget. It wrapped itself around his soul and squeezed tightly, trying to drag him down into it. Trying to pull him further away. And when he almost gave into the lullaby that was whispering in his mind. He had almost turned around, the darkness laughed at him.

 _You think that she would take you back? After all you have done to those like her? Your presence will destroy her. There is no redemption for you. She cannot save someone who damns themselves._

And with that thought, with the memories that the darkness conjured up for his consideration, his strength wavered and his fear set in. He was afraid she would indeed see only the demon. And it was that fear that made up his mind, driving him from the cabin. But the spark within him refused to die.

He was so lost within his mind that he didn't realize he had made it up to the helm until the wood hummed under his fingers. And just like that, he was snapped back to the present. He stared down at the wheel in his hand, amazed that his ship was singing under his hands again.

That was another thing. The Jolly had been acting peculiar ever since that woman had first summoned him. It was as if she could sense something in the dainty little thing that he could not yet see.

It is funny, dear one, for all your power, you can sometime fail to see what is right in front of you.

He raised an eyebrow, "Aye, is that so?"

You no longer find beauty in the sunrises and can no longer hear the secrets the wind whispers to you.

He was silent as he considered her words, thumbing the wood under his hands. "Perhaps that is through no fault of my own, old girl. The curse doesn't let me appreciate what I once did." This was a fact he had been sure of since the day he had watched the light leave The Crocodile's eyes through the bars of his subterranean cage.

Oh dear one. It is not the darkness that prevents you from seeing. It is the fact that once you found what you were looking for, you closed your eyes.

Anger bubbled up at the rebuke in her words, "I never asked for what I became. I did what I had to for Milah's memory to find rest." He felt her sigh.

And this is what she wanted for you. For you to give up your own peace so that her memory might find it?

"SHE WOULD HAVE WANTED REVENGE ON THE MAN WHO MURDERED HER!" he screamed. The darkness reared up and pushed at his mind, craving release. He could feel the power bubbling beneath his skin, begging to be released.

But would she have wanted you to die in the process?

And at her words, his fury died. He didn't know how to respond. He wasn't sure there was anything to be said. He felt the wind caress his face, stirring his hair and swirling around him, tracing the memory of a warm hand on his face, a memory of a dream he couldn't place.

My dear little one, I have loved you since the moment you stepped foot on my decks. I have watched over you through every trial and every joy. I have rocked you to sleep and danced with you in the storms.

"Then why did you leave me for so long?" he whispered. He didn't notice the broken tone with which it came out.

I have not held my silence because I was angry. I was grieving. I was mourning the great man you had been. I was sad that what you had with me, the joy you always found in being on the open waters with nothing but me, your crew, and a horizon to chase, wasn't enough for you anymore. You knew what it was to love with your whole heart, and to ask nothing more from your life that the blessings you chose to take from it. I longed for that man to return. The man whose touch was as reverent across my grains as that first night you saw me under the stars. The man who chose to sail with me, not on me.

His head bowed in shame at her words. Her gentle rebuke had affected him more deeply than any of the barbed accusations thrown at him from any person who had some ill will toward the Dark One. And he thought he knew why. They hated the creature that lived within him, and so he could disregard their comments because they were not speaking to him. But her words were directed to him. The man. The one who had chosen this fate. The one who had given up his life to appease a ghost.

As he considered this, the warmth within him rekindled, that small ember that had been drowned in his anger and darkness. He was able to, for the first time, review everything he had done to satisfy the shadow he thought had haunted him objectively. And his knees grew weak as he finally began to fully comprehend the monster he had become in pursuit of his revenge.

You see, dear one. You became a monster to kill one.

And suddenly, all the years he had lived became too much and he crumpled to his knees before the helm, finally giving into a grief he had buried for so long. For Liam. For Milah. For the untold number he had damned by his actions. For himself. For the man he should have been. Tears poured down his face as he brought his hand to cover it, trying to shield it from the memories that haunted the decks.

Heaving sobs wracked his body as three centuries of life finally poured forth, unleashed from the vault in which he had locked and buried them. And as he knelt before his ship, he felt , for some strange reason, as if there was a presence there with him, not his ship, something warmer, lighter. He felt it behind him, pressed against his back and laying across his shoulders. He didn't feel so alone.

I will always be with you dear one. To the ends of the sea and the failing of the tides.

He smiled down at the wood beneath him, even as tears continued to roll down his face. He could practically feel the ghosts of Milah and Liam finally leaving his soul. He felt a warmth and a lightness within him.

Finally, after some time had passed, though he couldn't tell how long, his tears slowed and his breathing grew deeper. He felt the softest of caresses across his neck, like someone was toying with the hair there. He straightened and cast a look around, and though he was alone, he could swear he felt something press a kiss to his forehead. Then the presence slowly faded, until he was panting on the deck, by himself again.

Come dear one. We have work to do.

He sucked in a breath before pushing himself to his feet, reaching for the wheel again, feeling the awe that he thought had long deserted him. This magnificent vessel had given him the honor of her captaincy. His protector. His guide. His companion. His friend.

He stared out at the horizon, marveling at the colors of the post dawn light. "Aye, that we do, my beautiful girl." He heard her soft laugh. "That we do."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 12.

The door closed soundly behind him, and she could hear his steps recede as he made his way above deck. After eyeing the door curiously for a long moment, she turned her eyes back to the room she was now apparently welcome too. It was simple, and yet she could see small hints of the grandeur of the ship in the detailed molding and the siding around the room. In the intricate carvings of carvings on the legs of the desk and table and the swirling patterns spiraling up the back of the chairs around the room.

But it wasn't even the subtle splendor that really caught her eye. Rather it was the worn care she could see scattered around the room. Spots worn down in the carpet had been shifted, so that they now were sheltered underneath tables or chairs, made safe from pacing feet. The cushion on the chair behind the desk was molded to the shape of the user. There were worn down portions of the finish on the arms of the chair from where she could picture him thumbing in thought.

Even the bed beneath her had a distinct dip from where it usual owner would lay, and as she slid her hand across the worn linen sheets, she could see a spot in the wood siding that was glossy with wear and pressure. She stared at the roughly hand wide stripe across the otherwise flawless finish of the wood, puzzled for a moment. She allowed her eyes to wander over its position relative to the bed before it suddenly clicked.

It was at roughly the same height above the bed the peak of the curve of his hook would be if he was laying on his back. And suddenly she could picture him there, lying back, absentmindedly rubbing his hook against the wood as he struggled to find sleep in the empty room. A scar that spoke of many restless nights and lonely dawns. Despite knowing what he was, her heart clenched at the thought of any person being so alone.

She reached out and hesitantly caressed her fingers across the wound in the wood, before her stomach gave another rumble and she dropped her hand to turn to the food he had left for her. It was a small dish of fruits and cool meats, something she could see served in the ship's galley the few days after a ship left port. And yet, there was a certain opulence to the meal that indicated it was more than just common seamen's fare.

There was half a pomegranate, sliced apples and pears, strawberries, honey, deliciously fluffy biscuits, rhubarb coated in a sweet sauce on one plate. On the other was thinly sliced smoked meat that had a savory dressing along with bitter greens, a soft cheese, and a red soft food she had never seen before. There were two glasses, one with a beautifully fluted stem that was filled to the brim with a sweet drink she had never tasted before, although it reminded her of apples, and the other was a small pewter flagon filled with cool, crisp water, which she was shocked to find had lemon in it when she took a sip.

As she nibbled on the delicious foods before her, she studied the plates and the flatware he had provided, along with the napkin. The black linen was of the finest quality she had ever seen, unmatched by the quality even at court. The plates and utensils were heavy, and she could tell they were solidly made. Around the borders of the plates were beautifully engraved scenes of story she recognized from her childhood- that of the sailor and his stars. An odd choice, for it was more a parable than fairytale.

She remembered her mother telling it to her one night when she had stood sighing on her balcony as a child, wishing the world were closer.

It was about a young boy who grew up on a ship, and every night would forgo sleep to marvel at the stars. As the boy grew, he harbored a wish that he would join them in the night sky. He spent his entire life chasing story after story that told of ways to become one of the stars, until finally on his deathbed, with his dying breath, he wished upon the North Star. The star granted his wish, and as he died, took him up to let him live forever among the stars he so admired.

For a time he was happy to be among them, but every night he would watch humanity love and laugh and mourn and live as best they could, and as the years passed he began to grow envious. His light dimmed. Finally, in his longing for the life he wished he had lived instead, he vanished from the night sky forever.

She had never really grasped the moral of the story and had never bothered telling it to Henry. Her heart ached for him as tried to understand why that tale would be wrapped around each of the dishes he had provided for her, thinking that Henry would probably be able to figure it out.

Likewise, the fluted glass and goblet held scenes from the story, while the flat wear each had a hand reaching for a star designed into the handle. She was so absorbed in her consideration that she didn't realized she had essentially scarfed down the meal he had provided, devouring every morsel with an unseemly speed.

The apple tasting drink appeared to be laced with alcohol, for she felt a satisfied exhaustion creep over her. After wiping her hands and mouth, she laid back to recline on the bed, feeling engulfed by the larger imprint of the man in the mattress. She allowed her mind to wander back to her son, feeling for the first time since her family had been stolen three days prior that she was safe. She realized some of her fear for her family, for Henry, had abated. She somehow knew that the Dark One would truly see them safe.

She brought her finger up to trace the scar in the wood as she considered the man she had sought out. He had been everything and yet nothing like she had expected. There was a blazing darkness in him that she had seen in his eyes and his cruelty. And yet, there was an underlying gentleness to him, a tenderness it seemed, so ingrained that he could not shake it.

She knew that he had not always been the Dark One. She had heard the stories of how the previous Dark One had been captured by her parents and kept in a dungeon deep below the castle. Been told of the mystery of how he had managed to get down there and slay him. The enigma of how a simple man had killed the immortal.

She felt her eyelids flutter as she tried to reconcile the beast who had mercilessly slain her horse for amusement with the man who had carried her across the deck and healed her without prompting. It didn't make any sense. Her last thought before she drifted off, was that perhaps he wasn't completely one or the other, man or monster, but rather a being who had become so weary of life that it just took the easiest route to live it. And that was a sad thought indeed.

 _She was standing on an empty plain, the wind blowing lightly, carrying with it a wolf's howl. A sound so mournful, she covered her ears to try and escape it. But it echoed on in her head, and so she gave into its call and spread her wings, soaring over the emptiness to find it._

 _And in the distance, a spot of black caught her eye, and as she approached it slowly coalesced into the form of a massive wolf, howling at the empty air. Before it was the body of deer and the carcass of a leopard. It nosed the deer, as if to encourage it to move, but when nothing happened, it tipped back its head and leveled another accusation at the sky._

 _So heart wrenching was the sound that she stepped forward to wrap her wings and arms around the forsaken animal, lending it what comfort and warmth she could, trying to soothe it with gentle caresses across its neck. And slowly the beast calmed._

 _Finally, it leaned forward to give one last gentle lick to the creatures before it, then turned to her. It's summer sky eyes asked if there was truly nothing to be done, and it was with regret that she shook her head. The beast sighed, but she could tell that it was ready to move on, to leave the bodies behind. She leaned forward and cupped the wolf's soft face before pressing a lingering kiss on its brow. The wolf closed it eyes to savor the caress before opening them to press its wet nose to her face in thanks. Then, without a look back, it stood and loped off into the distance._

 _The only sign it had been there was the pitch black paw prints left in its wake in the ever growing darkness as it ran towards the horizon._

 _Then a hush fell over the plain before a quiet music surrounded her. She drifted into nothingness and dreamed no more._


	14. Chapter 14

Fair warning- This was rated M for a reason. I've been asked to add the disclaimer that this chapter contains the start of a sexual assault scene. If this should bother you for any reason, I have provided a short summary of the chapter at the bottom so you won't have to read it and won't miss the important points. This will be the only chapter at present to which this warning applies.

* * *

Chapter 13.

As he stood at the helm, the Jolly humming under his fingers, the wind in his sails and the sea calm around him, for the first time in three decades he felt a small modicum of peace. In the hours since his break down, he felt as if a tight knot in his chest had loosened, and he could breathe a little more easily. The air tasted fresher and the sky seemed bluer. The darkness that thrummed through him seemed to have been buried in the wake of his introspection.

He considered what exactly lay before him. The Lady Regina, "Evil" as she may call herself, was a child compared to what he knew and what he had seen. Getting the Princess' family back should not be difficult. It was finding a way to incapacitate her beyond the rescue that would pose the greater problem.

He sighed as he reviewed various artifacts and curses he could utilize that would neutralize Regina. _You could just kill her._

And suddenly the day was no longer as bright, nor was the sun warm. He tried to shake off the idea, for some reason finding he had an aversion to it, but now that the darkness had managed to worm its way back up from the depths of his mind, it refused to be banished so easily. _Just imagine how nice it would be to rip the pretender's heart from her chest and listen to her screams as you squeeze the life from her. Imagine the power._

He blinked, feeling a sudden wave of dizziness come over him, and he staggered slightly, clutching at the helm to keep upright. He tried to breathe deeply, but he felt the darkness coiling around his chest, tightening fiercely.

Dear one?

"I can't… I…" he was trying to get the words out, but his throat refused to cooperate. He felt his thoughts clouding and an anger he could not control welling up inside him. He wanted to hurt. To be hurt. Anything to allow this vicious upwelling of emotion to be unleashed from his chest.

He clawed at his chest, trying in vain to dig it out as he attempted to get his feet under him. He couldn't seem to coordinate his balance with his movements though, and he ended up in a crouching stagger that had him reeling wildly away from the helm towards the rail. He was breathing in ragged gasps, feeling as if this air ways were being ripped apart.

DEAR ONE!

He heard her, but couldn't answer. _Just burn her. Let her know who is the true master of this vessel. Show the world that is should not forget the fear of the darkness. That they are right to fear the shadows. Right to fear the starless night. This blasphemy of a creature is not worthy to bear you. Burn it and free yourself._

He was trying to keep him mind in the present, but the darkness spoke in such tempting tones, slithering across his mind that almost against his will, his darker nature was agreeing with it. The ship that dared defy him was burn so gloriously in the night. First that damn horse, then the demanding frail little princess, and then the hunk of wood beneath his feet. He could show them all who had the true power of his life. He bowed to no one's wishes. Never again would another be master of his life. He was his own master.

The craving in him grew deeper. He needed to find a way to fill the void that was growing where his heart should have been. He clawed at it more vigorously. He had to fill this void.

 _The princess. She is here, bound to serve you. Get her, take her. Destroy her. Imagine how she will break under your hands. Such a frail thing. So pure. So innocent. Ravage her. Make her yours. You are her master. Make the royal brat bow to you, bend to you. Gorge yourself on her screams._

He felt a feral grin creep across his face. Yes. The princess would rid him of the yawning void that was consuming his chest. He could make her feel it instead. He got his feet under his body and once he was upright, he staggered forward to the stairs, making his way to the Captain's Quarters. He _needed_ to hear her screams. Regina could wait.

He felt drunk on the power coursing through him. It felt as if he was reliving the moment after he had stabbed The Crocodile with the dagger, watching as the black engravings melted into his name, and the sensation of eons worth of dark hatred and black spite poisoning his veins. With every step, he was falling more deeply into the cesspool it had created in his mind.

He thought, vaguely, that he could hear something calling to him, a plea carried on the wind and echoing around him. But the darkness was whispering such sweet nothings in his mind that he paid it no head. Once he reached the cabin door, he heard it lock, but with a flick of his wrist and a mirthless laugh, the door sprang open and he stalked inside.

The room was quiet, except for the faint breathing of the Princess. He could see her sprawled out on _his_ bunk, acting as if it were her own. _Of course she would. She is a royal. They believe everything belongs to them, even the lives of their subjects. They pretend they are the masters. Show her. Show her who is truly in control._

The tray of food was picked clean, and the napkin thrown haphazardly on top of the plate, as if she were expecting a servant to come and pick up after her. _That's how she sees you. A servant. A nothing. A SLAVE._

His limbs were shaking with rage as he approached her. She seemed to toss restlessly, as if she could sense something approaching. _You see, even in her sleep she feels your power. She fears you._ His sadistic grin grew wider, as he came to the edge of the bed, looking down at her.

Her brow was furrowed and she was breathing hard, a layer of sweat making her golden hair stick to her forehead and neck. The ache in his chest was burning, like he was being eaten alive. He clawed at it even more violently, feeling his blunt nails break skin.

 _TAKE HER. USE HER. DO IT. DO IT!_

Yes. He would use her before she could use him. She would satisfy the void in him. She would make him feel whole. He climbed up onto the bed, straddling her form on his hands and knees before he lowered his nose to inhale her sweet scent. He felt the moment she woke, as her body went absolutely rigid. He leaned back, grinning down at her, taking in her sudden shaking, hard breathing, pale face, and wide, terrified eyes.

 _Isn't it glorious?_ The darkness within him crowed as it coiled around his mind, Demanding satisfaction.

"Captain?" came her terrified whisper.

He sneered down at her. "Aye, _princess,_ that I am," he crooned to her as he reached down to rip her skirt away. _Abuse her. Master her. CONSUME HE-_

Killian Jones, Dear One of my heart, I command thee.

After his breakdown, he is beginning to feel better, the ghosts of his past finally gone. But when the darkness sees an opening, it takes it, and it throws him into a fit he cannot remove himself out of. As the darkness urges him to give back in and he is on the brink of doing irreparable damage to the princess, The Jolly Roger acts.

Killian Jones, Dear One of my Heart, I command thee.

* * *

After his breakdown, he is beginning to feel better, the ghosts of his past finally gone. But when the darkness sees an opening, it takes it, and it throws him into a fit he cannot remove himself out of. As the darkness urges him to give back in and he is on the brink of doing irreparable damage to the princess, The Jolly Roger acts.

Killian Jones, Dear One of my Heart, I command thee.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

She awake to feel his weight above her, his head low over her throat. But it was not just his physical proximity that immediately set her trembling. It was the sense across her skin of syrup dripping over her flesh and soaking into her lungs. She couldn't move in her terror as he leaned back, grinning down at her. And that's when she saw his eyes.

They were black. Her heart clenched as she managed one small word.

"Captain?"

The smile he gave was cruel, but the deadness in his eyes was what horrified her. There was no man in those eyes. The thing before her was all monster.

"Aye, _princess,_ that I am," he sneered, and she could do nothing as his hand reached for her skirt. She managed to get her eyes closed and held her breath, waiting. So she was shocked when the harsh, demanding touch she was expecting never came.

The room was silent. Her eyes fluttered open in anxious confusion, only to flinch back. He was still above her, and the expression of black hatred on his face made her try to push herself farther into the bed. His fury was a palpable thing, she could almost hear it hissing and spitting around her.

But then she heard the ship begin to creak and moan, swaying slightly. And just as before when he had left the cabin, she thought she saw a shadow around him, swirling, like a sea fog in the morning sun. She didn't want to move for fear of setting him off again, but she wanted to get away from him, still and seething above her.

She shifted her hands to try and push herself towards the head board and out from under him when she accidentally brushed his hand with her own. She froze, her eyes snapping back to his face, trying to anticipate what the contact would do, when she saw it. A black form shimmering around them, solidified into a massive writhing snake, firmly wrapped about the body of the man before her, tight about his neck and constricting his chest. But more than that- she felt it, the cold, cloying sensation of drowning, the tightness about her chest.

So caught up in the sudden vision before her that she almost missed his gasping breath. She flinched again at the sudden sound, eyes drawn from the specter above him to his face. She watched with rapt attention as his brows pulled down and his face began to turn red, the tendons and veins in his temples and neck standing out, as if he was struggling with a mighty weight. But most of all, she noticed his eyes, which seemed to be lightening.

Please little one, help him.

It was softer than the memory of a thought as it brushed her mind. She couldn't tell if it was her own thought or if some strange specter like the one above him had whispered it to her. But she could see that demon still coiled about him, and watched he struggled.

She wanted to obey the words, to sooth his brow, as she had done the first night, but she was still so afraid. He was still above her, had power over her in every aspect, and she was all alone. There was a demon, its hatred toward her so potent she could feel it in her veins. What could she do?

For your family, you must be strong.

Again, softer than a sigh, the thought rolled into her and, and coiled about her heart, stirring something in her. She was shocked at her own upwelling of courage, the surge of warmth and strength that flowed through her. Not knowing what else to do, she raised a shaky hand towards his face.

The things above him hissed and spit and his face contorted, as if he was in pain, his eyes squeezing shut. It made her freeze up, almost overwhelmed with fear, but the warmth within practically compelled her to reach out.

Light as a feather, her fingers brushed his cheek, and the contact he let out another strangled gasp of pain, his whole body shaking with tension. But despite the tautness of his body, the gentleness with which he turned his face into their contact was what gave her the courage to press her palm to his face, smoothing the lines of pain at the corner of his eye. He pushed his face more deeply against her hand, even as he remained above her on the bed, shaking with tension.

Neither moved, but as the seconds passed she began to hear _it._

 _Take her you fool! You are weak. You are a coward! Take and command what s rightfully yours. Be the master. Destroy her. Consume her. Satisfy the craving you feel. Gorge yourself on her innocence. MASTER HER._

The voice was the sound of hearts breaking and mountains collapsing. It was the voice of the poisonous fog when it rolled in from the marshes. It was the sound of battle and the cry of plague. It conjured images of pain and suffering, loneliness and loss. Emptiness. And then she could see.

 _A terrified, blue eyed child standing on an abyss, waiting for someone to come for him, and knowing they never would, while within, the darkness beckoned. He was so close to giving in and falling over the edge, not quite sure if he should take the step, even as the tendrils of darkness wrapped around his legs and drew him closer to the abyss._

 _She needed to call him back, needed to bring him away from the chasm. But the name she knew now, the cloak and mask he wore upon his form to conceal himself. A costume, a charade, a lie. She needed to call him back. Before he fell._

 _He was not a captain. He was not a pirate. He was not the dark one. He was just a man. Just a man._

 _"Killian,"_ she whispered, her thumb still lightly caressing his cheek, not sure if she was calling him back or begging him to stop.

He blinked, and then suddenly his eyes were the blue of a summer's day once again. He stared down at her for one moment before his face suddenly contorted in horror. He jerked back so hard that he threw himself bodily from the bed, where he continued to scramble backward, trying to get as far from her as he could, crashing into the desk and one of the table chairs as he went.

He ended up clear across the room, hunched against the wood paneling by the door, clutching at himself like his skin was going to slide away if he didn't hold on to it. She was still trying to recover from her fear, he hands still shaking and her heart still racing, but under her skin was the strangest sensation, like her skin was humming. The room had fallen silent again, the stifling air disturbed by her shallow breath and his choking gasps.

She studied him from her perch across the room, noting that the strange shadow that had loomed over him was gone and the sensation of drowning slowly had passed. He had stilled in his frantic clawing at his skin, but now he was simply curled up, hand and hook covering his head, as if he were trying to take up as little space as possible. She could not hear sobs but his shoulders were jerking and his whole body was shaking.

She wanted to see if he was alright, if the demon she had seen had left him, but she was terrified to get close to him. She didn't want to provoke another attack, whether he meant to or not. So she whispered softly across the space.

"Captain?"

His whole body jerked at the sound, his hands clenching .

"I am so sorry lass," came his broken voice, before he was consumed in a cloud of smoke. "I am so sorry."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 15.

"I am so sorry lass." He had to away from her. From what he had almost done. What he could still feel he wanted to. "I am so sorry."

With a thought, he willed himself away from her, he didn't care where. As he felt the tug of magic in his gut, the grip around his throat tightened and didn't release until the cloud around him dissipated and the magic pooling in his belly drained away.

As he drew in a breath, feeling the sickening knot in his belly, he let his gaze focus on his surroundings, and felt a sudden and violent wave of revulsion sweep over him.

In his need to flee, his instinct had taken him to the place his mind obviously thought he belonged. The brig smelled the same as it always had. Moist, rotting, cloying. It smelled of despair, of loss, of emptiness. He could feel the thick air on his tongue. Could taste the hatred, the bitterness, the abandoned hopes that still lingered on the air.

He had ended up curled up in the corner of the cage, pressed against the wood. He had vivid memories of being in a similar position as a child, trying to keep himself as small as possible, hoping against his own will that the evil would pass him by and pick one of the other unfortunate souls caged below to unleash its fury. And then the guilt when the poor unfortunate usually ended up being his big brother, the honorable one, who would provoke the men to ensure that they would not pick him instead.

He could feel the memories draping over his shoulders like cloak, the weight of the forgotten years of his past suddenly returning and forcing his head to bow, pressing his body tightly to the wood of the ship as he tried to escape what he had become.

He had never felt that sudden upwelling of darkness before. Or rather, he had never felt it push him so forcefully in a direction he did not wish to go. Up to the point the woman had called to him, he and the darkness had always been of a united will. Death, revenge, destruction. Bonded in their hatred of what life had wrought. He had never before considered the darkness as different from him, apart from him before because of that.

But as he cowered in the brig of his own ship, behind bars in the darkness, he started to understand that perhaps the darkness was not as much a part of him as he had come to believe. For since the woman had called to him, there had been something in him kindled that had not burned for many years. And he knew its source was her presence, though he wasn't sure why.

The only thing he could understand was how viciously the blackness within him reacted to her, how eagerly it urged him to snuff out whatever sort of light she seemed to carry with her.

Against his will, his mind relived the last few minutes, the powerlessness he felt as he fell victim to his own baser urges. And the sense of betrayal he felt as his old girl had somehow wielded the power of the dagger he had hidden within the walls of his cabin immediately after he had returned to her, victorious against the imp he had been chasing for so long. The fury within him had exploded, and if her command to be still had not forced him to remain in place, he would have destroyed the entire ship in his fury.

But then the princess had touched him. As she had tried to flee from beneath him, her hand had brushed his. And gods it was as if he could suddenly perceive color for the first time. He could _see_. And there had been something that had burned through the darkness. It was like the light that had suddenly allowed him to see was burning the darkness from his eyes. From his soul.

He felt the darkness react to her simple, burning touch, coiling around his mind and trying to drag him back into his pool of hatred and emptiness. And it whispered promises to his baser needs, whispering of satisfaction in blood. He could see her fearful eyes, focusing on something above him, and hear only the pounding of his blood as he struggled to breathe. He thought the Jolly might have said something, but he could not focus on anything except the vicious burning of her hand on his own, like she was lighting his flesh on fire.

He had felt the heat intensify and the light she seemed to radiate intensify, and then she had moved, not away from him in fear as she should have, but by raising a hesitant hand to his face. As she had moved, he felt a sudden violent loathing of her, and it had seemed to make her pause, but then her eyes had turned to steel and then he had felt... everything.

It was the most pleasurable of agonies. Like he had been out in the cold and then stepped into a tub of clean hot water. He _burned._ But it felt clean, it felt _good._ In his belly, the warmth of his brother's pride and his mother's smile blossomed. His skin under her finger tips felt like he had rubbed it raw, clean and sharp. He didn't register closing his eyes, but beneath his lids, he saw the patterns of flame and light dance, graceful as a swan's flight, across the blackness.

He needed _more._ A sudden starvation welled up within him, like finally realizing he had not eaten in decades. Like understanding that what he had been consuming to filling the void in his soul had been an illusion, and the banquet of what he truly craved had been put before him. He needed more, he needed to be closer. He needed to be filled.

And he had felt the darkness try and twist this desperation to be sated into a need to devour. To consume. He trembled as he felt the darkness pulling him closer and closer to the edge, corrupting his craving into a darker hunger. He had spent so long searching for something to satisfy that the pull was too hard to try and distinguish from his own desperate pursuit. He was on the edge of falling, the darkness twisting him. Suffocating him. Demanding he satisfy himself the only way he knew. Despite the fullness he could feel filling him from her touch.

 _Take her you fool! You are weak. You are a coward! Take and command what s rightfully yours. Be the master. Destroy her. Consume her. Satisfy the craving you feel. Gorge yourself on her innocence. MASTER HER._

 _It was too much. He just wanted to not be empty anymore. To not be alone._

"Killian."

Her voice, sweet as the softest summer breeze, caressed him and called to him from across the ocean of the abyss within him. And suddenly, he realized exactly what he was doing. what he had been about to do. One of the two sins he had promised himself to never commit- to never take without being given, and to never profit from the business of slavery. And as he violently returned to himself, he suddenly felt the power holding him in place, the command of the dagger, cease. This his ship had released him once he was himself.

Now, hunched and trembling against the wood, the betrayal he had felt so viscerally was non-existent. Instead, he raised a shaking hand to brush his fingers across the wood by his face, feeling only gratitude to his old girl for intervening.

I am sorry I had too, dear one.

He shook his head, 'Its alright old girl," he whispered hoarsely. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank..." HIs voice faltered.

Do you want it back?

As she quietly whispered the words to him, the darkness jumped and spit, absolutely demanding that he take it back. After all, he didn't want to become a slave to someone else's will again. He clenched his jaw, biting his tongue against his instinctual answer. The one honed over three hundred years of protecting himself. The one that told him to take it and use it to run his little princess through.

As he sat with his eyes closed, the memory of her hand on his cheek had him brushing the chilled curve of his hook across his skin, making him shiver at the touch of the cold metal where he felt like he was on fire, closing his eyes at the sensation. The cold against the heat. And behind his lids, he again saw the painting of light that the princess's touch had brought. It was almost as if, as he watched the light dance behind his eyes, he could feel it swirling within him, until he fancied it coalesced into an elegant creature with wings of light, that settled on his shoulders, draping its feathers across his skin and covering him in a cloak of warmth. Of strength.

"No," he said, his hand pausing in its caress of the siding as he felt something lie steel settle within him. "You keep it old girl. No better guard over me than you. Beside," he joked with a faint smile, holding up his hook, "I keep a bit of you with me always. It's bad form to not return the favor."

He heard her chuckle quietly at his small bit of cheek.

And perhaps my addition will be as attractive as yours, dear one.

He smiled at her, a unwilling huff of amusement escaping him.

"Impossible," he grinned lightly, his fingers again trailing across her wood planks. "I am far more dashing than you."

Of course, dear one, how foolish of me.

His smiled widened a bit, before it slid off his face as the weight returned to his soul. He sighed, fear creeping back. In a strange twist of irony, he felt safe where he was, locked up within the black bowls of his ship. Away from her. His cheek burned again.

Come dear one, we have much to do. I will watch over her. You must keep your bargain with her.

He sighed again, before he nodded. "Aye, that I must." And after another moment's delay, he slowly pushed himself to his feet. He wearily scrubbed his hand over his face, his finger lingering on his cheek. He didn't want to risk another slip up. "Stay steady until you are day off the Misthaven sound. I'll go on ahead and see what I can find."

Of course, dear one... And the princess?

He stiffened at the mention of her, both in shame and guilt and against the sudden and violent upwelling of the darkness, making him more than certain of the path he had chosen. "Watch her. I'll make sure she is taken care of. And if I should forget or slip up..." he didn't want to say it. Despite the complete trust he had in his vessel, the feeling that came with being commanded by the wielder of the dagger was one he was not anxious to repeat.

I have no worries, dear one. For you will find a strength you did not know you have.

He cast a skeptical glance around the brig. "Yes, clearly."

There is nothing weak in using another's strength when your own is lacking. The only true weakness is being unable to accept help when it is offered.

He sighed, jaw ticking as he struggled within himself. He wanted to stay here with his ship, but he had made a deal. And the princess. He wanted to be close to her light, to understand why she effected him so viscerally, but it seemed as if the closer he got, the deeper the shadows were cast within him. He wanted, but at the same time, he feared. At the thought, he fancied he could feel the feathers of the imagined wings shifted over him, holding a touch more tightly, anchoring him. Comforting him. He took a breath.

"I'll be in touch soon, old girl. Make sure the princess doesn't fall over the side. And I'll meet you at the Misthaven sound."

I will be there, dear one. I always will be .

He smiled at her words, before gently caressing her boards one last time. It was time to visit an old client. He pictured the sloping hill and the black glistening spires as he willed the magic to flow through him. He felt the darkness hiss in satisfaction. _An ally perhaps?_ The cloud of smoke obscured his view and he felt himself pulled into the sub reality that magic inhabits. But he still heard her parting words.

I love you dear one, no matter where you go.

His lips twitched, "And I you, old girl." And then he stood before the Black Castle as his words carried on the howling wind.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 16

She watched as the smoke dissipated, taking him with it. Once the last particles had vanished, she was able to properly breath again. She could still feel the fear and that strange warmth flowing through her veins as she slowly let out a shaky breath. _The madness in his eyes._

She smoothed a hand over the comforter, casting a look around the cabin. There was still light, a warm wash that basked the room in a warm glow. It was odd, now that he was gone, the cabin almost felt safe. She hesitated on the bed for several more moments, before slowly working her way to the edge of the bed and sliding to the floor.

Her feet hit the carpet, and she noticed with a faint smile that they had landed in two worn indents that engulfed her feet, and she could suddenly picture him sitting just as she was, hunched over the edge of the bed, absentmindedly rubbing his feet back and forth on the carpet, wearing it away over the years. A scar of his thoughts, much like the worn wood above the bed. She wondered what sort of memories had been worn into the spot beneath her soles, what sort of thoughts had been snared by the faded threads over the years.

With a light shake of her head, she dispelled the fanciful thoughts, electing to slowly rise and wander about the room, trying to find something to distract her from her still pounding heart. She knew, given what she had just gone through, she should be afraid, she should be terrified. The fate of her parents, her _son_ , seemed to lay in the hands of an out of control monster who had just tried to take advantage of her after promising he wouldn't. The same creature who had healed her without prompting, had tried to talk her out of her self-imposed slavery, had cowered away from her in fear of himself.

The paradox in his actions should have made her afraid, but she catalogued her own internal experiences since she had come aboard his ship, not two day ago. Again and again, she kept finding strength. Her whole life, she had been sheltered, her parents so despite to keep her from experiencing the pains in life that they had. Their learned fear became her instinctual reaction, and their boldness in the face of adversity had become her meekness in their shadow. She had never cared before, content to live as she had, safe and cut off from the world. The only darkness that had stained her life in the death of her husband was lessened in the birth and raising of her son.

She never before had a reason to be brave. But when faced with the loss of everything, she found something within herself she hadn't know she was missing. She sighed at herself. She wasn't brave. Only moments ago she had been trembling and frozen in terror, helpless. She felt tears start to prick at her eyes at the self rebuke, proving her own point to herself.

She tried to blink away the tears, sniffling as she continued her exploration of the cabin, fingers trailing over the smooth wood, her back never turning to the door. She saw maps and charts that made no sense to her, although she saw one with the familiar Misthaven coast line. She leaned forward, shifting the rest of the parchments out of the way to look at the map more closely, her fingers trailing over the ancient page, marveling at the skill and color of the illuminations. The land was filled with mountains and shimmer lakes and in the sea, all manner of creatures had been drawn coiling and writhing. It was truly a work of art, and she wondered where he had procured it. She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. A beast that looked almost the same decorated the corner of another map.

She was immediately intrigued at the similarity in skill of the renditions. She suddenly had a thought, and pulled the other maps back toward her, studying each unknown coastline and the ornamentation around it. By the time she had studied them all, she was certain of it. They had all been made by the same hand. The design of the bordering, the detail of the geography, the precision of the coasts, the intricacies of the beasts. There was no way they could have been made by different people.

She straightened, feeling an ache in her back from how she had been hunched over. Bringing her hands to her lower back she let straighten, breathing deeply, noticing for the first time that the sun had set as she had studied the charts.

She jolted in realization. The lamps around the cabin were lit. Instinctively she backed herself to the wall, eyes immediately searching for his presence. But he was not there and the room was silent, save for a gentle creaking from the ship that sounded almost like a song.

After several tense seconds waiting for something to happen, she slowly relaxed again, before being violently startled when a puff of smoke coalesced in the middle of the desk before fading away. She waited for something more to happen, and when the ship remained as still as it had been, she cautiously approached.

Now sitting on top of the desk was a pitcher and another tray of food, upon which sat a scroll bound in a blood red ribbon. But even more startling was the scroll being wrapped around the stem of the Misthaven Night Rose, a rare breed of pale pink flower that was supposedly extinct in the country. With shaky hands, she pulled the flower out and studied it.

The smell was nothing like the sweet, cloying scent she usually associated with flowers. Instead, the thornless rose emitted a sell that reminded her of a fresh summer night. If she closed her eyes, she could picture picnicking with her parents and Henry on the castle balcony. Her lips twitched at the memory. She lingered over the flower for a little while before opening her eyes to consider the scroll in her hand, letting out a resigned sigh as she put the flower down to pull the ribbon free and unroll the parchment.

 _ **Your Majesty,**_

 _ **Here is the fare for the evening, I hope you enjoy. I am no longer aboard the ship, rather I have decided to try and gather knowledge in the main land, where of course, you cannot be seen. I have enchanted the ship to travel to Misthaven Sound, where I will return to the vessel when I have acquired what I need. I will be sending along a list of your required duties come sunrise, so take the evening to yourself. As we agreed, I will provide supplies as you require them. If you desire something I have not provided you, use the parchment in the top right drawer of the desk to write it down and leave it outside the cabin door. I will ensure you receive it.**_

 _ **And since you cannot, at present, return to your home, I thought you might appreciate a bit of your home coming to you. The Misthaven Night Rose has an interesting tale. I have a book on it on the middle shelf, bound in green stained leather, should you be searching for something to occupy you for the night.**_

 _ **I bid you good evening, your Highness.**_

 _ **KJ**_

She finished the letter with a furrowed brow, confused by the tone of the note. while respectful, it possessed none of the darkness nor conflict she had seen in the man thus far.

She ran her fingers over the elegant initials at the bottom of the page. KJ. Killian Jones. His name. Not his various titles, no captain or dark one. She sighed again, dropping the parchment in favor of lifting the rose once again to her nose, inhaling deeply before she eyed the food before her. She carefully lifted the tray and brought it to the table left over from her morning meal, noticing with some surprise that the empty dishes were gone, leaving the flat surface vacant.

She gingerly placed the tray down, noticing that the engravings were again of the Boy and The stars, before she prepared to settle down for her meal. Then she caught sight of the bookcase and her curiosity was piqued. She rose and made her way over, admiring as she approached the beauty, variety, and quality of the volumes on display. Whatever else, he was a learned man.

Her eyes searched the middle shelf before falling on a small tome wrapped in a cover the color of moss, and she carefully slid it from its spot on the shelf, noting the lack of dust. He was very clean.

There was no embossing on the cover, just undisturbed leather. She ran her fingers over it as she padded back to the bed. Making herself a small tray of the fresh cut meat sand a small slice of the tart bread he had provided, she settled against the head board, nibbling a bite as she opened the cover. She gasped at the title.

 **The Beauty of a Lover's Regret- The Tale of The Night Rose**

She had to read the words aloud to make sure what she was seeing was true before glancing down at the small rose that was now cradled in her lap. As she considered the implications of the flower from simply the title, she felt a small warmth blossom in her chest like the rose in her lap, a small smile twisting her lips, before she gave a quiet chuckle. She spoke out to the silence of the room.

"He is trying to say he's sorry."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 17

The night had grown cold as he stood on the hill, observing the Black Castle. One thing he had learned over his centuries of existence was patience, and he was more than accustomed to waiting to strike. His victory over the Crocodile proved how effective the method could be.

The rise upon which he stood was windswept and bare, above the timber line, with only a small pile of boulders and stone to disturb the view. The stars slowly winked into existence above him as the night darkened and settled. On instinct, his eyes sought out the heavens, searching briefly for the constellation that had always brought him comfort on the long nights he had wandered on the sea.

As he stood, he allowed his mind to wander, wondering if the princess was resting, and if she had received his gift well. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to do it, but the gnawing guilt in his belly had unsettled him enough that he had needed to try and make some sort of reconciling gesture with her. The fact that he had felt the need to apologize at all also disturbed him. He was not accustomed to making apologies to anyone, save his ship, and that was only because it was her due.

That was another matter. He ran his hand through his hair as he tried to settle his thoughts. He still felt the deep vestiges of anger, the swirling darkness within him spitting its indignation at the ship's use of the dagger.

He remembered how it had felt, not that his mind was clear, the creeping sensation up his spine as his ship decided to wield, rather than just hold the dagger. The sweep of her soul up against his own as his will was subjugated. He had never realized what an intimate experience being commanded as the Dark One was. He had felt the spirit of his ship slip into his own, and for a moment, he knew her. The thought of experiencing that with someone made him nauseated, imagining the type of people who would try to use the dagger against him. Those kinds of souls.

The last of the castle lights flickering out in the distance brought him back to the matter at hand. As the hours passed, the citadel was still, and in the small hours of the morning, he decided it was time. Aware that using magic within a certain perimeter of the castle might trigger a trap or an alarm, he made his way down into the valley on foot, enjoying the strain of the battle with the forest undergrowth.

The forest around him was silent, unusual in the woods. The trees did not whisper to each other, the small shadows of the night not stirring the undergrowth, and the music of the night itself did not drift on the chilled air. The specter of the Black Castle seemed to silence nature herself with its presence.

He was tempted, after he started sweating, to cast his leather jacket back to the ship, but his concern for any magical detection spells had him resigned to the sweltering heat of his leather attire. After almost two hours walking, cursing himself for beginning so far away, he slowed as the ground leveled out and he felt the pressure of powerful magic across his skin.

He wasn't quite sure what it was, instinctively sensing the danger, but not knowledgeable enough in the caster's arts to identify it. He had obstinately refused to utilize the magical knowledge of his forebears or to do any research about it on his own, and he was now starting to regret his stubbornness, another first in a line of many over the last few days.

It seemed to get thicker the closer he got, and after another few minutes of walking, the darkness within him spat in fury as he finally clearly sensed the barrier. He reached out a hand, jerking it back with an oath as the magic flared blood red across the surface of the barrier where he had made contact, shocking the tips of his fingers.

 _Blood magic_.

The voice in his mind dripped with entertainment and scorn. He was powerless against it, and the darkness was delighted. He was familiar enough with the stories to know that it was impenetrable, except by the bloodline or by invitation.

 _She will never get her family back. She will be crippled with grief and you will be free of your obligation and then you can take whatever you desire from her. You can destroy her. You can consume her._

He turned away from the protection spell with a growl, frustration at the situation coupled with the tumultuous feelings that the darkness stirred up within him.

"Shut up," he snarled at the night.

 _Oh and now you are talking to yourself. First sign of madness you know._

"Bloody fuck off."

 _Oh can't do dearie._

He froze mid stride at the voice. The darkness had never sounded like that before. Had never sounded like _him_.

 _What's the matter dearie? Did you miss me?_

He viciously shook his head, trying to silence the voice. That voice. He scratched at his head, hoping to perhaps claw it out. He had become this so that he would never have to hear that voice again. He had destroyed that voice. The swirling darkness reared up, and a wave of dizziness and delight washed over him. Like the haziness that comes with drink.

 _Can't get rid of me that easily, dearie. I'm sure we'll learn to get along. Be the best of mates!_

"No," he groaned, trying to keep his footing, but the silence of the night pressed down on him and after a few steps, his knees gave out. He vaguely realized that this was the same sensation that had overcome him before, the one that drove him to the princess.

 _Yes, the princess. We should go and have some fun with her shouldn't we. There she is all alone, bound to your service, and you've not have her serve you yet. She's like a sweet fruit ripe for the picking. All you have to do is abandon this foolish little quest and pluck it._

He felt that hollow emptiness again, the craving, blinding need. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

 _There's no point trying to fight what you already know you are captain. Just give in; it's so much more enjoyable that way._

He remembered how warm she was. How gentle her breath had been in sleep. The press of her body against his as he had carried her to the cabin. How her touch made him feel full. _Complete._

 _Yes. She is the key to making the hunger stop. She is the perfect way to finally not be hollow._

The demon was right. He needed to go back to her. To feel her touch. To have that warmth.

He started to stand, trying to find his equilibrium, when he felt it, the slide of a soul and a will that was not his caress his heart. The darkness flared with fury, but before he could act on his fury, darkness blotted out what was left of the night and he fell into a dream.

 _She was sitting under the covers in his bed, a green, leather bound book propped against her chest , hiding the words. Her head bowed over the open tome, one hand gently holding it to her a she breathed deeply and slowly, having obviously fallen asleep while reading. She stirred and shifted, her other hand shifting, tightly but reverently clutching a small pale pink and thornless rose. And the black whispers faded away into a warm kind of silence as the whole of time seemed to watch her and take peace as she rested._


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18.

 _She was laying in shadowy glen, a gentle lullaby on a gentler wind, the caress of the soft pink blossoms soothing her fear, though she had long forgotten what had made her heart stutter and her pulse race. But now the creaking of the timbers around her sang to her so softly that she might have been imagining the noise, except for the peace that welled up within her. Her rest was undisturbed, there among the roses and the trees, with the shadows of the dancing leaves painting a masterpiece of timeless eternity upon the warmth earth beneath her. Until she heard the faint steps of a heavy beast, its deep, rasping breaths cutting through the still silence that had held the glen suspended in its perpetual calm._

 _But despite the hollow gasping that slowly washed over her prone form, she felt no fear. Rather she felt her lips curve up a smile, filled with the sensation that comes with the unexpected arrival of a long lost friend. She did not stir as the heavy foot falls approached, rather stayed as she was, eyes half open, watching the flickering of the sunlight through the canopy that reached like a lover's arms above her, as if to shield her from the true harshness of the light._

 _Her view was disturbed however when a black shadow cut across her hazy vision. She opened her eyes completely to pull the shape of a giant wolf's muzzle into focus. The beast towered above her form, the summer's sky looking down on her from its eyes, the only flaw in its shimmering black pelt, a small scar running up the right side of its maw._

 _The fierce beast should have made her afraid, but instead she found herself reaching up to caress the fur of the massive beast, watching its eyes roll shut as it tilted its head into her scratching fingers. For a long moment, they remained in that state, the hulking monster quietly holding vigil above her as she caressed it's soft fur. But after an immeasurable moment, she felt the call of sweet darkness call to her and her hand grew limp in its coat._

 _The creature tilted its head, ears flicking forward in curiosity, its summer's sky eyes studying her with the clarity that only creatures who live in the world as it is can know. Then with a soft breath out, the massive form shifted, and with an elegance of water flowing in a deep river, the beast settled its form to lay beside her, slowly dropping its massive head to rest on her belly._

 _She sighed in contentment, and the eyes rolled to look at her as the head tilted from its resting place, before it shifted slightly to angle toward her face , and after watching her for on more moment, flicking its tongue out in a quick caress of her cheek, before the head shifted back across her belly. The beast shifted once more, to ensure its muscles were all comfortable and settling with a huff, its summer sky eyes slid shut, and its steady easy breathing lulled her eyes shut and together they drifted away._

She awoke slowly, warm and comfortable under the covers, before the gentle rocking of the ship encouraged her to open her eyes. Slowly the Captain's Quarters came into focus as she took a deep breath and stretched, feel calmer than she had in a long time. Her spirit was still, something that had not been since her parents and son had been kidnapped.

She took another breath before flicking the covers back and swinging her feet over the side of the bed, smiling slightly when her feet landed in the two worn spots on the carpet. She swept her bare feet back and forth a few times to try and leave her own memories embedded in the worn fibers before she stood.

She was slightly startled when the small green book slid from her lap to the floor with a soft thud, and she picked it up with a gentle hand, regarding the thing with affection, before she turned back to the bed to search for the reason for the book. Pulling the covers back into place, she found the small blossom laying unharmed, and with a feeling of fierce protectiveness, she picked it up, slipping the stem betweent he cover and the front page of the book before turning to the rest of the room.

She was unsurprised to find a plate of fresh fruits with biscuits and honey already on an intricate platter for her, a small scroll resting on top of the garnish that decorated the edge of the plate. She considered the roll of parchment for a moment before deciding to eat first, settling herself in the straight back chairs of the table, setting the book in her hand on the table beside the platter.

The fruit was cool and fresh and the biscuits were still warm and flaky as she dined, the water she drank again hinted with lemon, but crisp and cold. she had eaten no better quality even at the castle. As she ate, she considered the book and flower, her mind remembering the story she had read.

 _The tale of man and his wife, and their unborn child. The man was called away to war and in the years he is gone, the woman gives birth to a health son. One day, the woman and her son are attacked by a strange man, and in an effort to protect her child, she attacks the man. But the man was able to get the advantage, and was going to kill her when her young son took his father's knife and with the strength of the love of a child, he was able to fatally wound the man, allowing his mother and him to escape, and the man to lay there and die._

 _So afraid was she by the ordeal that she wrote to the man, begging him to come home and help raise his son. But the man had found out, while he was away at war, that his father had been killed, and so he ignored the letter in favor of finding the one responsible for his death and getting revenge. To ensure he was not called home again, he had word sent that he had died in combat, and the woman was devastated. The man wasted many years in his search, missing his son growing up into a man, while the woman mourned him and tried to move on._

 _Eventually, a fisherman caught her eye and won her heart, and slowly she healed. The fisherman taught the boy his trade and taught him how to be a man, and somehow, they became a family. The boy gave his mother the knife of his father, for he needed it no longer. The knife that had once used to defend the family was no used to feed it._

 _But the man continued his mission, now driven into madness by his quest, and eventually he traced the knife back to the village he once used to call home. At night, when he arrived a house furnished with flowers and looking through the open window, he saw a women laughing as she cut vegetables, and did not know here. But the knife in her hand was the one that had slayed his father, and the madness that had driven him for so long made him mindless. In his fury, he took the torch in his hand and threw it into the thatching, and watched the house burn._

 _it was only as the flames became unbearable that he heard a voice cry out the name of his son, and suddenly the madness lifted and he understood what he had done. He dropped to his knees as the flames dances in the night and wept for all he had lost at his own hand, and where his tears fell, pale pink blossoms, the color of the blush of his wife's cheeks and his child's laugh. He spent the rest of his days there in that glen, his regret and tears in the night keeping the roses alive long after all else had passed away._

It was such an odd story, not at all what she thought would be the origin story of such a fragile looking flower would have, but in some ways, she felt that perhaps it made it all the more meaningful. She finished her meal and reached out to brush her finger along the petals of the flower, allowing herself a few more moments to mule over the story, before she decided it was time to start the day.

She reached for the scroll, pulling the little ribbon loose to unroll it, taking in his elegant script.

 _ **Good morning Lady Swan. Today, I've tasked you to tidy the forehold and coil all the rope on deck. The skies should stay clear for you. Best of luck.**_

 _ **And watch out for the rats. They don't have food stores to eat from anymore so they could be might bit hungry.**_

A second page contained the more detailed descriptions and instructions. She threw the scroll back onto the table with a scoff, before she took a breath.

"Well I suppose I should get to work then," she said to the rose, pulling it from its spot in the cover as she stood, making her way back to the bed and the small pile of clothing that sat on the chest at the end of it. Placing the rose down carefully, she stripped off the gown she had been wearing the last few days and the shift that was under that before hurriedly pulling on the closes he had given her, feeling the strange discomfort that comes from being bare in a foreign room.

As she slipped the vest over her tunic, tying it up, she felt different. The trousers and tunic were comfortable and practical, and not having a corset one allowed for an immense range of both movement and deep breathing. She made a mental note to write and ask him for a bath and some creeping clothes, before she bundled everything up and places it on her plate, remembering his words about cleaning her dirty things during the course of the day.

She hesitate for one more moment, before taking a deep breath situation the plate in one hand and picking up the flower with the other.

"Shall we then? To our first day of work."

And with a strange sense of purpose, she marched out of the cabin, placing the dishes and old clothes outside the door as asked before heading out into the sun.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 19

He woke as the first rays of light hit his face, pulling him from a disorienting sleep. Sleep. He sat up, feeling queer all over, trying to figure out what where he was and what had happened. He remembered the violent darkness and then the sudden dizziness, but after that he could only recall warmth and calm. He shook his head again and was in the midst of taking his surroundings, plotting out his next move when he heard a twig snap.

He was on his feet in an instant, turning to face the noise, his cutlass in hand in an instinct fast and older than any magic. And he waited as he heard the noise get closer and closer until with a final crack of a twig a giant shadow made itself visible. He tensed, about to attack hen he looked a little more closely at the approaching form.

"Bloody hell," he muttered as he allowed his sword point to drop, staying still as a black stallion with sky blue eyes emerged from the trees. While he knew there was more than one black horse in the realm, he knew that this was the princess's stallion. He held perfectly still as their eyes connected, the clashing of the purest blue and the one tainted by darkness.

The creature stopped its approach about ten paces from him, flicking his ears and swishing his tail as it studied him.

Why he had actually thought it was a good to try and find the creature that had given off such a stench o the beach was still beyond him. However, he did know that the strange leather clad man before him could have killed him, but instead had somehow put him in a lovely glade not too far from where he and his liege lady had encountered the creature. That, coupled with the faintest scent of his lady had beckoned him to find the man. Now he would see if it was worth it. He snorted at the thought.

He watched as the beast assessed him. For some reason he felt very keen to have the bloody horse like him, so he slowly sheathed his weapon, before speaking up, scratching behind his ear the ridiculousness of addressing a horse.

"Good to see you again mate."

If a horse could flick its ears sarcastically, this one did.

"Aye, fair enough. I hope there are no hurt feeling though. I just needed to prove a point to your long lady, that's all."

The horse stomped and swished its tail in agitation, letting out a scoffing huff.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, before speaking up, "Alright, I'm sorry. It was probably uncalled for. But you're fine, she's fine. See? No worries."

The horse eyed him for a moment before huffing with a scoff, stomping his foot and turning away. He figured the damn beast just wanted to rub it in, but after a moment, his head swung around and one blue eye regarded him with a sparkle of merriment, before the horse tossed his head, beckoning him over.

"Oh you want me to come with you?" he asked, surprised.

The horse gave another good natured eye roll, and with a repressed smile he stepped forward to stand alongside the beast.

"Do I get to ride, or shall I be walking?" he asked, half joking. The horse whickered out a small chuckle before shying sideways to bump him with the saddle. The smile would not held back as he gratefully swung up into the saddle. The horse turned to look at him, waiting to hear the plan.

He paused, considering. "We'll head to the village that isn't too far from here. See if we can find anything out. Sound good?"

The horse dropped its head in agreement before turning to make its way to the northeast and for a while, he simply enjoyed the morning, before a sudden thought struck him. As he stiffened, the horse paused, noticing something was amiss.

"Bloody hell, Swan needs her breakfast." He hesitated, before bowing over to speak to his steed. "Can you get us as far from the barrier as you can in the next twenty minutes or so? I don't want to use magic and risk tipping off Regina. And I need to send your lady her meal. And her chores."

The horse grunted slightly at that, but dipped his head in acknowledgement, before he started to move, picking up speed with every step until he was practically flying through the undergrowth. The horses muscles clenched and bunched under him and he felt a freeing sort of exhilaration at the beast's pure power. It was the same sensation as captaining the Jolly at full sail and listening to her whole frame hum with strain and precise power.

The pounding of the horse's hooves turned into a beat that kept time with his heart and his elated breaths, before he notices that the sticky sensation of the barrier had faded away.

"Aye that's probably good," he called and the beast immediately began to slow to an easy amble. He reached down and gave the shoulder an appreciative pat, and the horse whinnied lightly in response, before he sat back up to concentrate on summoning what he wanted to project to the ship. He hoped the early hour would mean she had not woken yet, and was not waiting on food.

Once he had sent the plate and scroll on its way, he sat back and simply enjoyed the stroll through the woods. He notices that even in daylight, the forest was still. It was unsettling, and he could tell the horse sensed it too, and so in an effort to alleviate the pressing silence, he spoke up.

"So what shall I call you, master horse?" He received a snort in response. "Come now lad, while that might be a respectable way to say in your sphere, I can't every well go around snorting when I am calling you. That would be poor form. So be a good lad, and give us something a little easier to say, yeah?"

At his words, the horse stopped and turned its head to him and he could have sworn the beast raised an eyebrow at him.

He gave the animal a wry smile as he scratched the back of his neck yet again, "Aye fair point. dub question. Perhaps if I list letters, you can spell it out, or shall I just guess?" The horse shook his head as he shrugged, sidestepping a branch. "Oh I can just pick then? Alright. Give us a moment ."

He considered. For some reason, this felt very important, this naming of the horse who had sought him out. So he truly though deeply about it, going through all the famous names before suddenly, gentle inspiration struck.

"How would you like Dílis?" The horse paused, considering. He suddenly felt incredibly awkward again, almost embarrassed as he explained, "It means loyal."

The horse was quiet before it gave a long and please whinny and he smiled. "Aye, Dílis it is."

The two continued on in companionable silence until they reached the village, around noon. It was a shoddy place, and the Dílis flicked his ears in distaste.

"Aye, me as well," he said softly, before dismounting, staying close to the horse's flank and summoning a cool, sweet apple to his palm, before walking up t his bridle and offering it to him.

"Bygones be bygones?" he asked quietly. The horse eyed him, before happily accepting both his apology and the juicy apple form his hand. "Aye there's a good lad." He scratched the horses forelock for a moment, looking around and considering, before lighting on the village tavern.

"How 'bout a drink then lad?' he asked the horse as he turned to walk toward it, Dílis following gamely behind without the need for his harness. When they reached the entrance, he simply draped the rope through the hitching ring, not bothering to tie a knot. "Makes for an easy escape, see? Now stay put and I'll see what I can find out 'bout the rest of the royals, yeah?"

The horse dipped his head before nosing his hand again, wanting another treat for his good behavior.

"Aye, course, lad, you deserve it," he whispered, carefully summoning another apple for the horse, who happily started munching on it while he turned to walk inside.

He wasn't surprised when his entrance through the small wooden door brought silence to the establishment. That had been happening for far longer than his existence as the Dark One. But he was surprised to see a small company of black uniformed guards sitting at one of the tables. He would be sure to keep his eye on them.

He pulled his shoulders back and allowed himself to slip into the costume that had been long fitted to his form, and with a new swagger to his gait, he made his way over the bar to order a drink as conversation and music began to fill the room once more.

The bar tender came over, "What can I get for you traveler?"

"Your house ale is fine. But how do you know I'm a traveler?

The bar man laughed, busing his hands with reading a glass and starting to pour the foaming liquid, "We don't get too many strangers round these parts, although lately there been more than were used to, to offer congratulations to the queen and all."

"Aye?"

The bar tender nodded, "People on their way to offer fealty."

That gave him pause. "Why?"

The bar tender gav e him a strange look, "You definitely are new about these parts if you don't know. The queen has claimed the royal family is dead and herself as the rightful queen. Many folk coming through to make sure she understands where they stand. But if you didn't know that, what brings you here?"

He bit his tongue, not wanting to give anything away. "I had business with eh queen, of a different sort, and I've been travelling, so the news simply didn't reach me. But now I'm here, I'll be able to offer her my congratulations on her coronation."

The bar tender closed the pas, taking a small stick from his apron to wipe the foam from the top of the glass before placing it before placing in front of him, "Good idea, although unless you are invited by her majesty, you'll not be able to get to the castle. Something about a defense against assassins.."

I am sure it is, "Well hen,' he said cheerfully," how's a lad get invited to castle?"

The tender gave a wary nod toward the table he knew housed the guards, "Ask one of that bunch, they'll be able to tell you."

He nodded before pretending to fish in his pocket, summoning two silver coins to his hand and pulling it out to lay on the bar. The man's eyes widened at the sum, "Thanks for the help mate," he said lightly.

The bar tender gave him a shaky nod, "Anytime. Always a pleasure to be of service sir." Then he quickly swiped the coins into one of his hidden pockets before turning away to deal with something else behind the bar.

He took a deep breath and a long sip of the cheap ale before he pulled a clever smile to his face and strutted right up to the guard's table.

"So I understand you are the lads I need to talk to about getting an invite to the castle."

"And who the fuck do you think you are?" one of the guards scoffed, before turning back to the game of dice he was playing. The others simply ignored him, and for the first time that day, he felt the blackness rear up, and this time, he welcomed it.

He let it fill him and watched with a cruel grin as the men began to register his sinister presence. He could see the flicker of fear in their eyes.

 _Yes, that's it dearie._

He stood for a moment more, taking anther deep pull on his ale before placing it down on the table and casually walking up to the man who had so blatantly disregarded him, and in a move like lightening, his hand was wrapped around the man's chin, hook just brushing his thundering pulse. His comrades jumped up shouting, but with a gleeful flick of his thoughts, they were all choking on air. He put his lips right against the quaking soldier's ear.

"I am here to congratulate the Queen and my name is Captain Hook, better known as the Dark One," he whispered as if speaking to a lover, his voice making the man freeze and the smell of urine crept up to his nostrils. His eyes burned for a moment and if he could have seen his reflection, he would noticed his eyes had faded to black. The fear in the room was like a lover's touch and he was reveling in it.

"No I do believe you have a message to deliver, aye?"


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 20.

She quickly discovered that she hated being on deck. The sun was lovely and the breeze was soothing, but the completely open skies unsettled her. She felt exposed, and she disliked the way the world and sky seemed to merge together, because she could not make out the horizon line. Even the gulls above her, which she could hear quite clearly, ere no more than darkened blurs on the azure sky.

She had decided to start with the rope, reading his detailed description of how she was to coil the large lines and which ones she was to tighten and which to let loose. So she started at the stem, placing her rose on a barrel near where she was working with the heavy line, and began.

She was shocked at how heavy the thick coils weighed, and unaccustomed to physical labor, never before having a need to perform it, by the time she had finished piling the first line in an orderly circle, she was aching all over and the skin of her palms stung. The wind was soothing, but she was sweating badly, and found herself extremely thirsty.

"Let's go get some water," she panted, gingerly picking up the rose, toting it back to the cabin. She had no idea where to find more water than what he had provided, so her first thought was that he perhaps kept it in bottles or something in his cabin. She got up to approach a cabinet when she heard a shrill creaking.

She jumped at the sudden sound, whirling around to see where it had come from, but nothing in the cabin was moving, except to the steady sway of the swell of the surf. The grating shriek continued, and curious as to the source, she grabbed her rose and wandered out of the cabin into the groggy passages below decks.

It was even more sweltering there, and she could feel trails of sweat rolling in beads down her skin and her clothes where sticking to her in a most unpleasant manner, and she found herself plucking at the fabric in the most of unseemly of location to try and make it more comfortable as she tracked the mysterious sound through the bowels of the ship.

She finally arrived at a wide room, with two sets of wooden tables and benches, and one wall lined with pantries. She discovered the harsh shrieking noise was a swaying lantern that looked like it had seen better days. And as she watched, the ring by which it was mounted to the ceiling wore through and it fell, landing on the barrel beneath it with a sloshing thud.

Her ears perked up at the sound and she walked up to the barrel, listening intently as she detected the faint sound of water moving in time with the ship.

"Do you think?" she asked the rose in her hand, before reaching forward to lift the rusted lantern off the barrel lid, placing it on the table behind her. She lifted the lid and nearly laughed in delight. The barrel was full to the brim with water, a small ladle bobbing at the edge, tied to the lid with a small string.

With excitement, she placed the rose down, picked up the ladle, and drew up a full draught of water, bringing it reverently to her lips. It was cold and fresh, without any hint of lemon whatsoever. Never in her life had she experienced such a thirst as she did at the moment and it was without a single ounce of grace that she shoveled as much water into her mouth as she could, uncaring of the excess that dribbled onto her already sweat soaked clothes.

She actually moaned as she felt the refreshing liquid trickle down her throat and then shivered as she felt it slowly pool in her belly, finally helping to sooth the heat of the day. She didn't think she had been more grateful for a sip of water in her whole life.

When she had finally quenched her thirst, she lazily dropped the ladle back into the barrel before shifting the lid back to cover the water, noticing the sting on her palms. With a hiss, she pressed the skin against the edge of the barrel, the sharp pain making her immediately stop. It was so foreign to her. Even when she had given birth to her son, she had been given a potion to help ease his birth and reduce her pain, so that she need not needlessly suffer. She couldn't help but wonder at it now.

She stared down at the reddened skin of her palms, assessing the burn in her hands and the shaking in her muscles. Never before had she questioned her lifestyle, but now, faced with the fact that only an hour's toil had left her weary, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps her protected life had not been detrimental to her.

She knew that in their past lives, both of her parents had felt the pains of physical labor, but in her youth, when she was but a child, whenever she had brought that up, trying to argue for being allowed to go riding or to play with the other children, her parents always insisted that they had fought and toiled so she would never have to. And as she grew, she simply didn't bother bringing it up anymore. For what more could she want that what the castle could supply?

She rubbed her fingers together, knowing with the number of ropes the Captain had requested coiled, her hands were likely going to end up bloodied at the rate they had been rubbed raw. And while the idea of pain had her hesitating, as she thought about it, she realized she wanted to finish this task. It was her doing, under her own strength and her own effort. Nothing before in her life had been thus, and filled with a new fervor, she straightened, plucking up her rose.

"Come on, we have work to do."

She then marched up the stairs and back into the light, going back to where she had left her list laying on a barrel. Grabbing it she read over his directions for the next line she needed to haul, and then walked over to it. She found a spot to put her rose then set about starting her task.

The rope burned her hands immediately, but she refused to stop. She needed something to distract her from the burn in her hands, even as she found relief from her fears in the strain of her labor, so she decided to sing to herself. It was an old lullaby that one of her nursemaids had hummed on nights when the thunderstorm had frightened her, the untamable fury of the skies terrifying the girl who like all her world contained.

 _Fire cannot burn me_

 _Ice cannot freeze me_

 _Water cannot drown me_

 _Earth cannot touch me_

 _But who am I?_

 _Who am I?_

 _I am here_

 _I am now_

 _I was lost in a world_

 _that could not hear me_

 _but no more_

 _but no more_

As she sang the song between panting breaths, she felt the strength from the night before well up within her. A strength she hadn't ever felt before, and she was able to grasp the rope tightly and pull, grasp tightly and pull, feeling the sun burn down on her, and the wind whipped around her sweating form. Grasp and pull, grasp and pull.

Rain cannot soothe me

Sun cannot parch me

Wind cannot chill me

Lightning cannot strike me

But who am I?

Who am I?

I am there

I am then

I was lost in a world

that could not see me

But no more

But no more

She barely even noticed when she finished the song, simply restarting as many times as needed, until the rope was finished, and then, almost in a trance, she moved to the next one on the list, her hands working in a steady time with the refrain of the song. She felt a sort of warm, bussing sensation settle under her skin as one hand passed in front of the other, tugging the rope tightly. Grasp and pull, grasp and pull.

I burn the heart

I freeze the soul

I free the mind

I make you whole

But who am I?

Who am I?

I am where

I am when

I was lost in a world

That could not feel me

But no more

But no more

She barely noticed the ship beginning to creak in time with her almost mindless chant, her focus being on the sensation of the rope fibers against her hand, the catch in her shoulder muscle from the strain, the single droplet of sweat that rolled down her back, the cramp in her calf from bracing herself against the planks beneath her. She had no idea how many times she repeated the little ditty, but when she suddenly felt the first drops of rain, she jolted so hard she almost dropped the last bit of rope she had left to coil.

Glancing upward, she realized the sky was black and the wind was whipping around her with a vengeance. What started out as a few drops turned almost instantly into a deluge, and she quickly finished the last loop, before hurriedly grabbing her list and rose off the barrel and sprinting _  
_for the cover of below decks. As soon as she had made it below, the hatch slammed shut above her.

"Well that was lucky," she mused to the rose, before throwing a considering look down the pitching passageway. There was no way that she was going to be able to clean the hold while the ship was rocking this violently, as if to affirm her thoughts, the door to that passageway swung shut as the ship rolled with another wave.

"I'll do it later then," she murmured and began to stagger her way back to the Captain's Quarters as the ship continued to dip and slid with the storm. The heady sensation that her labor on deck had brought was still lingering in her veins and she was able to get herself into the cabin and to the bed before it faded away and terror of the storm and the pain of her labor had her curling up against the wood paneling.

The first clap of thunder had her flinching up against the wood, humming frantically under her breath, trying to find the calm she had discovered in spite of the frightening expanse of sky on deck. But as a flash of lightening threw sharp shadows across the room, and a whimper escaped her lips as the clap of thunder.

Her courage was gone. As the storm raged, she found herself crying in hopelessness. She was like a ship in an ocean, at the mercy of the wind and tides, to be tossed around and buffeted by forces beyond comprehension. She honestly thought that her deal with the embodiment of evil was going to end well for her or her family? And even if he did uphold his end of the deal, she would never see them again. She would be alone, locked in a ship with a man who, according to legend, was one of the most evil and notorious pirates to have ever lived, and she had willingly put herself to his beck and call.

She would never be able to save her family or her kingdom. Everybody would have just been better off is she had been taken instead. Her parents would have been able to carry on without her. He son would have grown into a fine man without her guidance. She was useless.

She felt a renewed sob bubble up in her chest and she clutched her flower tightly to her with one hand as she pushed herself into the corner of the bunk with her other, fingertips sliding into the slick groove in the wood left by its usual occupant. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she begged her parents, her son, the rose, the ship, the storm to understand. "I can't do this. I'm so afraid. I can't do this. I'm not strong enough. I don't want to be alone. Please..." her voice petered out.

"I am so afraid to be alone." Tears rolled face and she clenched her eyes shut and pressed the rose to her lips in a prayer to anything that might give her comfort as she braced her burning hand against the wood, trying to find something solid to cling to reality.

There was another flash of light that she saw, even through her closed lids, and a second later another violent crash of thunder that set the whole cabin shaking. She heard a crash as something fell from where it was perched and at the sudden noise her eyes flicked open against her will, just as another bolt of lightning illuminated the cabin.

She screamed as the white light pouring in through the window, just for the fraction of a moment that it lasted, outlined the dark silhouette of a man standing in the middle of the cabin. She pulled as far back into the cabin wall as she could, eyes frantically seeking out any movement in the darkness, the storm seeming to ascend to higher and more violent heights as the wind screamed around the vessel.

Nothing moved in the cabin, and for a fraction of a moment she convinced herself that she had imagined it. But on the next flash, she let out another scream as the figure reappeared, closer than before. And seeming by fate, a series of successive lightening strikes kept the room in a flickering glow just bright enough for her to watch the form move towards her and he pulled away trying to flatten herself against the wood of the bunk.

But as the light died and the continuous peals of thunder rolled around the cabin, shaking her very bones with its might, and the screaming wind howled obscenities at the night, she thought she heard the faintest whisper.

"Not alone."

And on the next strike, the figure was right at the edge of the bed, looming above her. She screamed again, and closed her eyes, and prepared herself for whatever fate this thing was going to condemn her too. But when nothing came, she opened her eyes, tentatively, still terrified. The cabin was empty.

She blinked the still falling tears from her eyes in an attempt to make sure she could see clearly that the cabin was empty. Then the next flash of lightning came. And she froze. The thing was kneeling on the bed and was inches away from her. _And she could see straight through it to the cabin beyond_.

She simply shut down in terror, her throat refusing to scream and her limbs refusing to move. She could do nothing. The light flickered out, but not two moments later, another flash illuminated the room again. And then the form shifted, a hand coming up to the apple of her cheek.

Suddenly the whole world froze. Sound became muted and the ship seemed to still. As the fingertips caressed her skin, it was as if all of existence was holding its breath, and from the touch, she felt warmth flow through her. Her clutching hands both slid down to her lap, limp, all fear of the thing gone as the comfort and safety of its touched radiated through her. The form leaned forward to press its forehead to hers, and she mirrored the movement, her eyes locked on to where its eyes should have been, somehow knowing that it could see her.

The light faded, but she could still _feel_ it. And a flickering of light later, it reappeared. She felt the hand on her face slid down her neck to gentle grip her hands, which now lay motionless in her lap, the rose still between them. She felt a soothing cool seep into her from the points of contact, and this time when the lightening faded, she could still make out the hazy outline of the thing against the shadows of the room. Then the form shifted and she felt it, a white heat that jolted into her very soul as the thing pressed a shadowy kiss to her forehead.

On the next bolt of light, she gasped, for now the outline appeared in the form of a giant wolf, its back legs on the floor, one paw braced on the bed, the other placed on her hands, and its muzzle resting on her forehead.

"Not alone."

And then the light died and the form with it and suddenly the storm seemed to have its voice again. She waited, half in anticipation, half in fear, for the next bought of lightening, but the shape never reappeared. But as a sudden wave of drowsiness overcame her, she felt as if something in her had shifted back into place. The small fire of courage rekindled and she was able to force herself to lie down, pressed up against the wall of the cabin, the small groove pressing as an imperfection into her back as she clutched her rose to her and tried to hide from the tempest's fury., and after pressing the flower to lips she was able to let her eyes fall shut and find sleep during a storm for the first time in her life.

Just as she passed over the brink into the abyss, she whispered to her silent guardian, hoping that it might hear.

"Thank you for not leaving me alone."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 21.

He watched as the soldiers hurriedly jumped up from the table, clinking gracelessly as they donned their last pieces of armor, their superfluous feathered hats making them looking like panicking hens as they scurried out the door. He felt his teeth bared in a feral smirk as the door slammed shut solidly behind the last of them, before his eye brow jumped up as he assessed the now silent establishment.

The coiling darkness within him was crowing in pleasure at the cloying scent of fear that now permeated the smoky and yeast filled air, mingling with the tart smell of sweat and other bodily fluids. It was a lingering, sharply sticky smell that permeated every fiber of his being with a twisted satisfaction and he couldn't prevent himself from inhaling deeply, savoring the fermented atmosphere like he would sample the aroma of the finest brew.

The calm contentment that had come to him in the woods had been replaced by a sort of euphoric humor, like he had taken several hearty sips of strong liquor on an empty stomach. Looking around, he couldn't help the amusement that bubbled up at the frozen figures who allowed their heads and eyes to drop as his gaze passed over them.

A small chuckle passed his lips as he meandered back up to where he had left his drink, and with a casual swipe, lifted it from the table and brought the brew to his lips, taking a deep pull, catching the eye of the wide eyed bar tender as he did so. The man swallowed hard, but surprisingly, held his eyes, even offering a slight tip of his lips before he dropped his eyes to the glass he had cleaning.

He finished his glass as he stood there, smacking his lips loudly as he all but dropped the mug onto the wood table top before bringing his hand to wipe the foam from his face, smearing the residue on his pants. He stood for a moment considering, before swinging his leg over the edge of the bench and settling himself at the table. At the center of the room, it commanded the entire space, and he allowed his power to stretch out as he settled into his seat, casting a tense pallor over the whole tavern.

 _See dearie? It's nice to be the bad guy._

And just like that, the euphoria vanished and his good humor turned sour. Why the voice had suddenly shifted was beyond him but he was willing to try and claw it out if he had to.

 _Oh you know that won't help dearie. You are stuck with me. What a shame. To think that you spent centuries trying to silence me, and now it is your very decision that keeps my voice alive._

He growled low in his throat, feeling the anger and bitterness start to spill over, pressing a cold silence into the air. The patrons around him seemed to fade out of existence as his world started to narrow to the fury in his chest and the pounding memories behind his eyes. He could feel the memory of her warmth in his hands, draining his hope as the heat dissipated from her flesh and his love fading with the light in her eyes.

His breath started to sit shallowly in his chest and his muscles were tightening. He felt his dead heart fluttering in his chest. His body was burning , like his skin was drying and shrinking while still stretched across his flesh. He could hear the demon laughing in his head. His throat was burning. He was drowning in the fire in his veins.

 _Soothe the fire. Look at all the blood around you to quench your thirst. Rip their hearts out. You can use them to fill you. Make them burn for you._

The slamming down of a tanked in front of him jolted him back into awareness so suddenly he actually jumped slightly. He shot a glare at the tender as he turned away, but the man gave no indication as to whether or not he had seen the momentary lapse in his concentration. He eyed the back of the man for a moment longer, before turning back to the freshly filled tankard that had been so unceremoniously placed before him.

The brew wafted the heady scent of hops and the foam trickled temptingly down the side, but he suddenly had a singular need for water. Cold clear, soothing water. His throat felt as if he had been straining hard since the sun had risen. Like he had been panting in the hot sun.

His craving was so all consuming that as he reached for the mug, magic swirled in his palm, and by the time the pewter reached his lips, the liquid within was no longer amber, but perfectly clear, with the slightest undertone of wood, as if it had been kept in oak barrels, like how he stored water on his ship.

The liquid soothed his burning throat and as he felt it creep down his chest, the cool seemed to release his chest and lungs as it slowly made its way to his belly, letting him breathe deeply again. As he took another gulp, he closed his eyes to savor the sensation, taking greater pleasure in that cool water than he had in any alcohol he could remember. It also seemed to douse the fury in his belly and had washed away that accursed voice from his mind.

So as he waited for his message to be delivered, he opted to continue drinking the water rather than the ale the bar keep was trying to ply him with, and in the corner of his mind, he had to wonder at the man, so stoic in the face of an anomaly such as himself. The man must be paid well by the queen of he was willing to play such strange events so coolly.

As time passed, the other patrons seemed to have sensed that his ill humor, such as it was, had passed, and the quiet chatter and music of the common folk started up again. He remained at his table, sipping on his ever replenishing mug of water. A strange tune floated into his mind and seemed determined to remain there, though he could not recall the words or where he had heard such a tune before.

It was just reaching mid afternoon when a commotion outside drew his attention away from the mindless tune in his head and toward the door, which slammed open a moment later. A black silhouette commanded the threshold, and a moment later the figure stepped through it to reveal the haughty face of Lady Regina, The Evil Queen, as she had been christened by the common folk.

He had to acknowledge that the years had been kind to her, and that her youthfulness had not faded in the near twenty years since he had last seen her. Her plunging necklines and high collars showed off her ivory skin to great advantage, and the split up the front of her skirt, revealing leather riding trousers, was a tasteful adaptation. but the thing he noticed most was her eyes.

Long ago they had been dulled with grief and pain, but there had still been a lingering gentleness about her. But now that dullness had been replaced with a sharp cold gleam, and the soft lines around her eyes had been petrified over the years into a sinister hardness that bespoke only cruelty. But most telling were the deep circles she could not hide. The lines engraved by nights of self hatred and sleepless despair.

He could not help but compare her to the other woman he had recently come into contact with. The princess was innocence and gentleness. He couldn't help but wonder if, in her eyes, he bore similar marks to the face before him. But as she approached his table in the once again silent tavern, he put that thought aside and donned his air once more.

"Well, love, that was quite the entrance. Was that just for me?" He gave her and amused smirk as he slowly stood from his seat, not offering her a bow or any other acknowledgement of respect. Fury flashed in her eyes as she noticed his tone setting decision. He had placed himself on the high ground from the outset, as her entrance had been intended, graceless though the attempt was.

But she recovered quickly, "The dark one deserves only the best after all. Especially after coming all this way to congratulate me on my victory. The one you put me on the path to, so long ago."

Something clenched in his chest, roughly around where his heart was, as her words drove home the realization that the princess had been put in the position she was in by him, however indirectly. That unsettled him, made him feel as if he were somehow indebted to her for that, despite having no direct hand in the cause of her parent's demise.

"Aye, I have always thought that long term investments always paid off the most richly, and here I am, proved correct. Congratulations on achieving the victory you sought for so long." He gave her a flirtatious smirk, and he saw the moment she bought into it. He pressed his advantage. "Perhaps we can return to the castle, you can tell me exactly how you achieved your success, and I will give you all the ... _congratulations_... you are due."

She raised a brow as she tilted her head to assess his form. He let her, remaining unshifting as her eyes scanned his leathers. He was well aware of his appearance. He felt no need to ply false modesty now, not that she would believe such an act anyway. But to sell it, he returned her roaming assessment, licking his lip and biting down on the corner when their eyes met.

Her lips twitched up into a self satisfied smile as she, turned, half talking over her shoulder, "Yes you should join me at the castle. I think you'll be _very_ interested in what I have to show you." She sashayed toward the door.

"Aye lass, I believe I will," he said with a sneer to her back.

Dipping his hand into his coat pocket and summoning some additional coins to his hand, he dropped the pieces on the table next to his still full goblet and followed the queen into the sun. Dílis was still waiting for him patiently at the hitching post next to the door, and twitched an ear at him curiously, awaiting an explanation for the unusual company. He shook his head at the beast, silently informing him that now was not the time for such conversations. Dílis stomped in irritation but acknowledged the situation with a huff and a whisk of his tail, before shaking his head at his present rider, indicating his exact thought on the matter.

The queen stood before a monstrous black carriage, two men flanking the door. Both were young, but still men, with beard and a mop of curl air. One had empty blue eyes while the other had cruel brown ones. For some reason he seemed familiar, like the echo of a memory. He eyed both, taking in the blue eyed one's bow and quiver, while the other had his hand braced on the pommel of an intricate long sword. The craftsmanship of the weapon indicated it was an expensive possession, and its quality matched the over wrought armor he bore. The blue eyed ne was dressed in simple hunter's cloth and furs, and stood in sharp contrast to the two figures next to him.

"Shall we?" inquired the queen, gesturing to the steps of the carriage.

"Aye, lass, we shall." He was intentionally avoiding the use of her title and he could see it was irritating her. He turned away toward Dílis to hide his smirk, the horse rolling his eyes at his antics.

"Oh there is no need to bring Max there. Come ride with me."

He turned back toward here, confused, "Who the bloody hell is Max?"

The queen rolled her eyes, "Whatever you call the horse. You have no need to bring him with you."

He considered, acknowledging the truth of her words. Now that he had a standing invitation, he had no need of another form of transport when he could teleport to wherever he desired. But as he looked at the beast, he felt an odd tug of affection. Dílis tilted his head slightly, his clear blue eyes sincere and open, and he decided.

He turned back to the queen, a condescending sneer on her face that slid off at his words "His name is Dílis, not Max, and he'll be accompanying me, if it's all the same." He didn't bother waiting for a response, simply turn back to the horse and pulling the reins from the hitching loop where he had placed them, and heaving himself back up into the saddle.

He turned back to the queen, who had not moved from her spot. "We were on our way then aye?"

He could almost hear her growl of irritation and gave her a bright smile, forcing her to do the same as she managed a falsely agreeable, "Yes we were."

And with that, she clambered in her carriage, the two men following her. The horses jumped forward under the hip after she gave the sharp command and then they were on the road headed for the castle. The tip was delightfully awkward, as he could tell she was still silently stewing from his many intentional slights over the course of their exchange.

He noticed that Dílis was unusually inexpressive, and he had a moment, he leaned over to pat the horse's neck and murmur quietly in his ear, "Buck up old boy, we'll be grand."

The horse whisked his tail in irritation at the blasé tone in his words, and sidestepped, tossing his head, telling him just what the beat thought of his whole plan.

"What else was I supposed to do?" He whispered, under the guise of soothing the animal. "Your lady needs me to help her, and I can't do that outside the castle."

The horse took a moment to process his logic before conceding with an irritated huff. But he grinned and the two kept a comfortable silence for the rest of the trek to the barrier. He could feel the magic grow thick in the air and felt Dílis tense under him. He ran a hand through the mane, altering the horse without words that he was aware of the situation.

The carriage paused a little ways in front of him, and a moment later a trail of blood red magic streamed from the interior at the barrier and he watched it eat away at the barely perceivable magic, until a large opening had been created. The carriage once again moved forward and Dílis followed closely without his urging, and the moment the horses tail had passed the barrier, he felt it snap shut behind them. The horse looked over his shoulder and they shared a glance, before they continued on to the castle, arriving just as the sun was setting.

As he dismounted, he glanced up at the sky, and sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. Dílis turned with an inquiring eye as he let out a vicious "Bloody hell," under his breath. He saw the horse's gaze, and moved up to his head, summoning an apple, both to feed the animal and to check to see if he could still utilize his powers inside the blood magic seal. He was relieved when one appeared without delay, and he offered it to the horse as he whispered, "There is a storm coming, and she is going to be right in the middle of it."

The horse stiffened, head shooting up in alarm, but he could do nothing to sooth the animal for the next moment, he heard the queen call out, "Come Dark One, my men will see to your... beast."

With a whispered, "It'll be alright lad," he gave the horse one last pat and turned away, allowing his smirk to fall in place.

"Aye, lass, I'll follow you."

Her eyes blazed again as he refused her title, but she turned, and followed by her two lackeys, made her way up the steps and into the castle. He followed just behind her, throwing a final glance over his shoulder at the darkening sky. He was concerned, but if he went back to the ship now, his chance at an open invitation would be ruined. He had to trust that the Jolly would tend her.

Once they had reached the end of the grand entrance, she turned to him. "As I was not expecting to be having guests for dinner this evening, you will have to forgive my lack of hospitality."

He had never heard an apology said with so much pride before, but he nonetheless acknowledged it with a dip of his head. "No matter, I am well aware I was unexpected. If you could direct me to m y room for the evening, I will get out of your .." he paused, his eyes flicking down to her waist then up to her quaff. " Hair."

She smirked at his implication, before motioning for the blue eyed man o set up next her, which he did without acknowledgment. "He will show you to your room. Have an enjoyable evening."

And with that she turned abruptly and march down the corridor opposite of where she had indicated he would be stay. He was glad of the distance. He watched her retreating back for a moment before turning with a shit eating grin t his companion, "Shall we then?"

The man set off without a word, and in short order they stood before a plain wooden door. The man motion once with his arm, indicating this was his desired quarters then sun and retreated back the way they had come.

"People of few words," he murmured to himself as e pushed the door open. The room was opulent compared to his cabin, but plain in terms of a castle guest room. He knew the slight was intended, but the simplistic elegance of the room did not bother him in the slightest. He was amused that she thought he would lose his temper over something like furniture.

shaking his head, he approached the stained glass window in the corner of the room, noting the harsh sound of rain pounding against the glass. It was quite the tempest.

Just as he reached the edge of the bed, which was situated in the corner of the room, lightening flashed across the panes. In the accompanying volley of thunder, he suddenly felt a terror so overwhelming it made him dizzy and he grabbed the edge of the bed to keep from falling to the floor.

A moment later it passed and he was left clutching at his chest, trying to understand where the hell that had come from and what it was. He was distracted however when another volley of lightening raced across the sky, and the rounds of thunder had him clambering to the bed, gasping as he lay on his side, his limbs shaking with a sudden terror.

As the fear faded away to the soothing sound of the rain, his mind seemed to grow heavy, and as the wind started screaming, he felt something slide over him and he knew no more.

 _Before him lay a pond as black as the soul within him and on its waters, a single elegant bird. It was tangled in a net and thrashing wildly. He could tell that it's fear was compounded, as it was both tied up and alone, abandoned. It seemed to be calling out to those who had been with it before and seemed to have left it, asking them to not leave it alone._

 _That it was frightened of being alone. Moved by the creatures plight, he hurried forward, but that only seemed to agitate the bird further when it spotted him, so he slowed his motions and very carefully approached._

 _"You aren't alone" he whispered, trying to soothe the creature with his voice."You are not alone." And it seemed to do the trick, for the skittish thing let him approach and with the slightest touch of his hand, the net around its neck and head vanished. He soothed his hand down the creature's form, dispelling the rest of the material and freeing the bird completely, before looking back into the creatures eyes, dipping his head so that they touched faces breaths apart.._

 _They were beautiful, the green of the Lost Lagoon in sunlight, and they seemed familiar, shining with a fear he had seen before, though he couldn't place where. But as their eyes met, he felt peace steal through him before the creature closed its eyes, and in that moment he could have sworn that a woman was before him, forehead resting against his. So he shifted, pressing a kiss lightly to her forehead, closing his eyes to will her the peace that now seemed to permeate him._

 _When he opened them, he watched the bird settle down, its white feathers now unruffled and the water of the pond now still and full of light. And in a whisper on the wind, he thought he heard a thank you._


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 22.

Emma awoke to the gentle rocking of the ship. It eased her into consciousness, and she slowly opened her eyes, awareness slipping into her mind as she took in the view of the cabin she had from her position pressed up against the wooden wall. She was on board the ship. His ship. And there had been a storm. And then the shadow.

She wasn't sure if she had simply dreamt its presence or if something had actually joined her in the cabin in the night, but she was glad. The specter had given her comfort when she thought she would be left alone.

Her eyes flicked around the room, wondering if the shade was still present, but the cabin was still in the morning light, the only movement following the gentle roll of the ship on the surf and the floating of dust through the motes of light. She took a deep breath, noticing the aroma of chocolate that pervaded the cabin and what must have stirred her from sleep.

Her eyes searched for its source and found it in the platter that was sitting on the table, filled with some fruits and bread, from what she could see. Next to it was a lumpy mass, and as she straightened up in the bed, leaning against the wall, she realized that it must be her new set of clothes for the day. Quickly she looked around for her rose, finding it unharmed between the sheets.

That thought had her remembering that she had collapsed into bed covered in sweat from her labors on deck, which, because of the storm, were now undone. She felt the stickiness that comes with being unwashed after physical exertion, a sensation that she was unfamiliar with. She sighed, pushing her mess of hair from her face, before something occurred to her. She jerked her hands out in front of her, assessing the flawless skin of her palms, seeming to have returned to their pre-labor state, save for the small calluses that now hardened her skin.

She ran her thumb over them, studying her hands, wondering how it had happened; struck by how grateful she was to have something so small done for her. She thought about how good she had felt about her laboring the day prior and now the overwhelming gratitude that she wasn't in that small bit of pain. As she sat forward to the edge of the bed, feet dropping into place on the worn patches of rug, she considered that she had been forced to lose everything before she could understand how precious the little things were.

She thought about the joy that one of her son's smiles could bring her and how irritated she would get when he was exhibiting her father's bullheadedness, and now she wished more than anything that he was there with her, even if just to argue over how he was supposed to dress for a ball.

She sighed again before heaving herself up to her feet, wincing as her muscles stretched from the long night cramped up against the side of the ship. She made her way over to the table inhaling the rich aroma of chocolate as she approached, assessing the fine platter of food laid out before her. She noticed that the bundle was indeed a pile of clothes, and on top rested a small rolled up parchment.

She decided to quickly change, hurriedly stripping of the grime covered clothes she was wearing and pulling on the new outfit, as comfortable and well-made as the last set, before she sat herself down to dine on the cool fruits and tart bread that he had made appear. She noticed that the chocolate smell seemed to be emanating from the goblet before her and after a few bites, she grew curious enough to reach out to grab it.

The finely worked metal was almost hot to the touch, and once she had gotten over her surprise, she grasped it and brought the drink to her lips. A sweet, slightly spiced chocolate ran down her throat and she couldn't help the small moan of pleasure at the delightful taste. The liquid chocolate was delicious, and she could detect a hint of cinnamon in the brew, making for a wonderful blend of sweet and spiced.

She finished her fruit and chocolate in short order, having missed her meal the evening before. Once she had nibbled on the last morsels, she wiped her hands and stacked her dishes, before picking up the small scroll that had been lying on the table top. Uncurling it, she was greeted again by his elegant and flowing script.

 _ **Lady Swan, I hope that the weather was not too rough on you last evening. The storm seemed to come from nowhere and I was surprised to see it on the horizon. My apologies if you were out working and got caught in it. To remedy that, today please clean the hold, and try to organize the items as best you can. I am assuming you are, in fact, literate or these letters would be a moot point, so I'll also ask that you catalogue what you find in the ledger that's in the chest right by the hold door.**_

 _ **This will probably take you a few days, so don't strain yourself, your highness.**_

 _ **KJ**_

She gnawed on her lip as she read his letter, scoffing slightly at the tone, relieved that she wouldn't be up in the open air. But she felt a deep disappointment that he had included no news on The Evil Queen, or her family. As she shifted in her seat, she wondered if perhaps it was intentional. What if he refused to give her any information whatsoever, given the fact that she will never be able to see them again anyway? She sighed but pushed herself back from the table and began tidying up her place.

She had always had someone to clean up after herself and now that she didn't, she began to see how much work was required to do something simple, like clear a table. Another creature comfort that she had not appreciated until she had to do it herself.

Silently she vowed, if she ever got the opportunity, she would thank each and every servant in her household by name, and never neglect showing her appreciation for tem ever again. But the small hopeless voice in her mind reminded her that the likelihood of ever seeing her kingdom, let alone being served by the castle staff, was next to non-existent.

She felt a sudden upwelling of tears at the thought, and with a sniffle, she immediately set about tidying the rest of the room, pulling the sheets up from where she had rumpled them on the bed, straightening the pillow and collecting the clothes she had changed out of, putting them on top of the empty dishes.

Just as she was about to grab the plates and put all her used materials outside the door, she remembered that she wanted to ask for something to bathe with, even if it was just a small basin and some water. So she quickly stepped over to his desk and riffled through his top drawers, finding parchment, ink, a quill, and some drying sand. She sat and began to write.

 _ **Dear Sir,**_

 _ **I thank you thus far for the well prepared food you have seen fit to give me, and I have not eaten better, even when I lived in the palace.**_

She paused for a moment as she finished the sentence. The way it was phrased made it sound like such a thing was so long ago. And that was how it felt. Her whole life had come tumbling down around her feet in naught but a few days, and then her whole identity, Crown Princess, mother, daughter, stripped away as well. Her parents. Her son. Her friends at court. Her whole life was gone.

The tears that she had managed to stave off from a few moments before came back with full force, and her eyes blurred as they poured down her face, and she decided to finish the note as quickly as possible, despite the blots the falling liquid was causing on the parchment.

 _ **Thank you as well for the clean clothing you provide me with, as you said you would. You also mentioned that if I should desire something I lack, to put the request to you, and if was in your power, you would grant it. With that in mind, I should very much like to have something small to wash myself with. I am unaccustomed to labor and find myself desiring to bathe more frequently that before. If you would deign to provide me with something, it would be very much appreciated.**_

 _ **ES**_

She hesitated for a moment over the signature, the habit of signing with her full title and name difficult to overcome. But she was no longer that person any more. Those titles were worthless on a hunk of wood in the middle of the ocean. And so with a few more spilled tears, she simply signed as he had. With nothing more than her name.

Another sniffle followed as she sprinkled the sand across the ink, letting the grains absorb the small pools of wet ink that remained, before she carefully poured the sand back into the vial. She held the parchment over the side and blew lightly, letting the remaining sand fall to the carpet below the desk, before she stood to take the letter back to the table. Gently she placed the letter on top of her old pile of clothes before placing the fabric on top of the gathered plates and setting them outside the door to the cabin.

She returned to the bed, tidying the sheets, thinking back on how often she used to the same thing for her son, and she had to pause for a moment as sorrow overwhelmed her.

"Henry," she gasped out, feeling her eyes begin to sting yet again with tears. She put her hands out to brace herself against the soul wrenching emptiness that suddenly welled up within her, and her palm somehow landed on the stem of her rose. She turned her watery eyes to the small bloom, somehow unharmed during the night. If that tiny petal could weather a storm, then so could she.

She breathed in deeply, blinking away her tears, before she finished tidying the bed. Then she grabbed the bloom, taking another breath of the calming scent as she turned toward the door .

"Ok- to the hold," she encouraged herself.

With another deep breath, she nodded to herself, and marched toward the door to head down to the hold.

Though she had no idea where it was, she simply figured that she could try every door until she found it. But before she could even attempt to try a door, she heard the soft whispering from before. She whirled around, trying to figure out where it was coming from, but as it was the night she had stumbled into the captain's cabin, the passage was empty. She waited, but nothing seemed to change, so she hesitantly moved forward, noticing that as she did, the whispers seemed to move as well.

Brow furrowed, she pondered, wondering if it was some kind of enchantment he had left behind to guide her, and for a moment she wonder if it was some sort of trap. But even though she was disconcerted by the disembodied whispers, they did not evoke any sense of threat of fear in her. So she continued on, following the voices, until she arrived at stairs the stern of the ship and the whispers seemed to just fade away. Stairs that led down into the darkness that inhabited the bowels of the ship.

She shivered as she looked into the darkness, smelling the thick, moist air as it festered in the shadows, carrying the stench of rotting brine and thick with dust. Her brows pulled low as she was overwhelmed with the putrid stench, surprised that anywhere on the ship could have such a stench, for what she had seen of the ship indicated that the Captain maintained the highest degrees of cleanliness, to an almost militaristic degree.

She knew the stories, of the naval lieutenant who vanished into the sky, and the black-souled sailor who returned in his place. She heard the whispers of mutiny and murder of his captain- his brother. The rumors of stealing a wife and holding her hostage. She had heard her lady's maids whispering of the silver tongued demon, with eyes the color of ice that burned with back fire. And then the warnings her parents had murmured to her at night, warning of the monster so evil, it could conquer darkness itself. Of the shadow that had somehow slipped into the deepest parts of the dungeon on the very night fate was to change, and with a single blow, stole the dark power for himself.

As she sucked in a breath at the thought, she was brought back to the looming darkness below her as the rank air was pulled deep into her lungs. She coughed lightly, before she resigned herself to breathing the air for hours. So with a nod, she gripped her rose tightly and descended into the eternal night of the bowels of the ship.

The air was even worse, hot and cloying, as she carefully felt her way down the stairs. She again wondered why this part of the ship was so neglected.

Her last stepped jarred her as she unexpectedly encountered the hull of the ship just as the ship gave a hard lurch. A small yip of surprise left her mouth and she stumbled, flailing about, trying to brace herself. But when she put her hand out to the side, expecting the solid hold of the ship, her yip turning into a screech as the wall gave way under the pressure and she fell sideways onto the hard wood.

And just as she was recovering from the sudden change in position and the blooming ache in her hip and shoulder, she was startled yet again when a light flare brightly right above her. She flinched, curling herself in anticipation of something, but nothing came.

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and pushed herself to sitting. She sat in what appeared to be a storage room, except along the walls were dozens of horizontal and vertical wooden shelves, creating cubes of storage space along all the walls.

Puzzled, she sat upright, casting a wary glance back out into the darkness before pushing herself to standing. She allowed her eyes to roam over the slots, observing some had sacks of coins, other vials, pieces of ribbon, jewelry, flowers that had yet to fade, and a multitude of other trinkets. None of them seemed to have anything in common other than a small roll of paper curled up next to the item.

Her eye was caught by a space at about eye level because it appeared as if there was a set of human toes sitting next to the scroll. Wincing slightly at the disgusting sight, she nevertheless reached out to carefully pluck the scroll from next to the appendage, careful not to let her fingers brush it.

She looked at the parchment in her hands, noting as she looked it over that it was of the same material as the contract she had signed only a few days prior. The memory of the rage she had experienced that day set her whole body shaking and it was with trembling fingers that she unfurled the parchment and read with beautiful script therein.

 **By this agreement, it is hereby sworn that Killian Jones, Dark One, known by moniker Hook and Captain of the Vessel The Jolly Roger, does swear to acquire a remedy to the magical illness that ails the signer of this contract, Brough Lefent. In return for the above named services, Brough Lefent, the courier, does hereby willingly and without reservation,sign over one favor to Captain Killian Jones, to be claimed at such time as the writer of this contract deems it convenient.**

 **Should the latter party, in the name of Brough Lefent, fail to fulfill or attempt to escape the above terms of contract, his toes are forfeit to repay the debt accrued. Should the former party, Captain Killian Jones, fail to fulfill or attempt to escape the above terms of contract, this contract is rendered null and void, freeing Brough Lefent of any and all obligation to him and placing the children under the protection of Captain Killian Jones until such a time as they come of age or are able to supply themselves the commodities to live, whichever circumstance should arrive first.**

 **Both parties being agreed, the terms outlines are binding by all the ancient laws and rites and the terms of this contract take effect immediately upon the signing of this contract**.

She finished reading the contract, then glanced back up at the neatly lined up toes on the shelf before her and felt a wave of nausea rise up in her. He had taken the man's toes. Like actually physically removed his toes. And as a courier, without his full foot, he would never be able to work again. This man's life had been destroyed by this deal.

With a face twisted in disgust, she tossed the paper back into its place, then runs an eye over the compartment once more in revolted understanding. Each of these little sections was a complete deal someone had made. Each item was a trophy collected, the symbol of a desperate soul. A passing thought crossed her mind and she wondered with a sort of morbid curiosity if her contract had been placed among those before her.

It was as she spun around, cataloguing the dozens of spaces, all full, she noticed a small chest on the floor, shoved in a corner, with a piece of old blanket draped over it haphazardly, like whoever had put it there had been in too much of a hurry to hide it from sight to do it properly. It reminded her of when Henry hurriedly tried to hide something when her heard her coming.

Henry.

Her heart clenched in her chest and she squeezed her hands, only to look down, surprised to find the stem of the pink blossom still held there. She looked at it for several moments, recalling all her interactions with the man who was her captor since she had met him. The strange way he had reacted to her offering of servitude, his almost-gentlemanly treatment of her, him healing her, the horror at himself. But she also recalled his volatile anger and callous words. She could not understand him

Shaking her head at her musing, she knelt down in front of chest, pushing the fabric off the lid. She was surprised to find that, when she tried the lid, it opened easily under her hands.

On the inside was revealed, she was taken aback by what she found. Instead of fine jewels and piles of gold, it was barely half filled. She saw a small cutlass, several books, a shawl, a cutting of a strange thorned plant, a bloodied knife, a beautiful sextant, and several folded pieces of parchment.

Carefully, she reached into the chest and picked up one of the folded pieces of parchment. Withdrawing her hand, she placed the flower on the floor to open it. And gasped. Inside was a charcoal portrait of a stunning woman mid laugh. The precise details of the lines around her smile and the glitter in her eyes clearly indicate that the artist knew this woman intimately, knew her down to her very soul, and likely she knew the artist just as deeply.

It was truly a work of art, and she envied the woman who could have such a devoted eye observing her. She wondered what such an eye would see of her, should she ever find someone who could know her as this artist did the subject.

With reverence she felt was due to the devoted portrait, she carefully set it aside and pulled out the next.

This one depicted a young boy with a mischievous smile, holding a cutlass aloft, on the deck of a ship. The cutlass looked remarkably like the one in the box, and it was clear that the same hand held also done this portrait.

Just as she was about to set it aside, she looked more closely, something familiar about the quirking smile and squinted eyes. But she could not seem to place it and so disregarded it in favor of exploring more of the contents of the box.

She pulled out another sketch, and gasped at what she saw. A man, not much older than herself, with curly hair, and laugh lines around his eyes, was laying prone on a wood surface, black lines creeping up his neck, his face convulsed in agony as his eyes fixed fiercely on the observer, or perhaps, she mused, on the artist. It was clear the man in the image was in agony, but she could also see a stubborn furrow in his brow and a fierceness in his eyes, his lips parted, and she could almost envision his valiantly struggling to offer some words of comfort to the person above him. The person who took the time to note the loose threads on the collar of his captain's jacket and the small mole on his cheek. To make sure the tan line of his collar and the slight indent in his curls from his captains hat.

A person who knew the agony of watching this man die, for it was clear that is what the portrait was of. A man in his last moments. And every line etched into the image expressed the agony of the hand that felt compelled to capture it.

As she looked into the dimming eyes of a man she had never met and whose name she did not know, she felt herself begin to tear up, her soul aching for the pain and love captured in the image in her hands. Before she realized it, a single tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the the page, just below the man's eyes.

She gasped and quickly sat back from the image, but the damage had been done. Now the man appeared to have a single tear running from his eye as he immortally drew his final breath.

She hastily refolded the portrait and replaced it and the others in the chest. She closed her eyes to compose herself from the emotional onslaught she had just experienced, but the dying eyes of the man from the portrait haunted her behind her lids.

" _Liam!"_

She jerked, eyes flying open as she quickly looked around. She could have sworn she heard a broken and agonized voice screaming, begging. But there was no one but her, even as the voice echoed like the memory of a dream.

Sniffling slightly and recomposing herself once more, she resumed her search of the box, eyes being drawn group of identical book spines. At random she pulls one from the middle and opens it. Inside are lines of the familiar and elegant script that she has only recently become familiar with.

She begins reading in the middle of a page.

 _ **...n't remember her face anymore. I keep having to pull the sketch out to remind me what she looks like when she smiles. The bloody demon has kept us here too long, and I can feel the magic of this blasted island seeping into me. I can watch it in my men. I'll catch them staring out at the horizon with empty eyes, before I call them back to attention and the life returns.**_

She frowned, realizing that what she was holding was one in a series of captain's logs. Shocked, she looked back in the box. There must have been twelve or thirteen volumes in the chest. She glanced back at the book in her hands, noting that the logs was not kept daily. Then she looked more closely at the dates and gasped. The date was from almost one hundred and seventy years before.

Amazed, she looked at where she pulled the book from, the empty slot in the middle of the spines indicating it was sixth in the series. She was shocked. There must be over three hundred years of captain's logs kept in the chest.

She sat back, considering. Three hundred years. A man that old must have the weight of the world on his shoulders, with that amount of memories and regrets that could accumulate over such a lifetime. She would never wish such a fate upon anyone. She could only imagine how she would feel if Henry had succumbed to such a fate.

She shivered, but the thought prompted another. Her son always kept all his valuables in a box under his bed, and in her youth, she had discovered similar boxes in her parents' chambers, filled with items they had collected or that held sentimental value.

If the writing in the logs was his, it stood to reason that everything in the chest was also his. She considered the portraits form before. There were none of him, so he must be the artist.

It mystified her that such harsh hands could create such lines of passion. Then another thought occurred to her. The maps in his cabin. The beautiful detail and intricate patterns done by a skilled and practiced hand. He must have also created them.

Shaking her head at this newest facet to the man, she slid the book back into place. As she did she noticed that the last book, the thirteenth, varied slightly. ALthough identical to the others in size, shape, and binding, where the others were blue and grey, this book was pure black.

She slipped it out, curious, and noticed that emblazoned on the cover was the design of a jagged, evil looking dagger. She ran her fingertips along the cover before opening it up to the first page.

 _ **Captain's log- Year 345, 3657 by worldly reckoning, day 37 of the Late Season**_

 _ **Milah, my love, finally. I have finally found it. The secret your son told me of so long ago, the means to finally laying you ghost to rest. The dagger. I was approached by a witch, fancied herself an evil queen, Regina, she called herself. Pompous palace raised brat. She promised me that she could get me the dagger. In exchange, when I had done the deed, she wanted a favor from me. While I hated the idea that I should act like the vile creature i'm trying to destroy, the opportunity was too good to pass my love. I agreed and she says she shall have it to me within the fortnight.**_

She gasped. He had met Regina before. Her heart sped up as a sudden fear began to crawl down her spine. She continued to read, as he noted receiving the dagger and plotting out how to enter the castle. The more she read, the more she feared. He knew intimate details of the castle and her kingdom. He made note of her parents marriage and finally, of her mother's pregnancy. She was enthralled with the absolute prowess of his plotting that she didn't realized she had reached the end until she turned a final page, filled with harsh writing, nothing like the elegant scripts off all the previous pages.

As she pulled it closer to her face to try and make out the letters, a piece of parchment slid out, but she paid it no mind, consumed by the words before her. The last entry was dated to the day of her birth.

 _ **I did it. I finally did it. And he laughed as he died. I stabbed him through the heart, to die as you did and he just laughed.**_

 _ **Gods it burns. I can hear them all, screaming in my head. I'm burning. The Jolly has gone silent and I cannot feel the sea spray. I can't feel the starlight. I can't feel th- I can't feel.**_

 _ **MILAH MY LOVE IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?**_

 _ **GODS WHAT HAVE I DONE?**_

 _ **Liam**_

 _ **Forgive me.**_

The writing was shaky and the ink was blotched, like he was pressing too hard and writing too quickly. She ran her hands over the letters feeling the agony in every stroke. Her tears ran afresh as she began to truly understand the man who dwelled within the monster, driven by rage and grief to do the only thing he could.

She closed the book carefully, caressing the cover as she slowly shifted to put it back into its sacred spot. But as she shifted forward, the paper in her lap slid to the floor. She picked it up to slip it back into the pages, but she was too deep to not know everything. What could merit being added to the final book?

She unfolded the parchment to see a contract, dated from thirty years ago and began to read.

 _ **I, Killian Jones, newly christened Dark One, do honor the oath sworn to Regina, child of the Miller's line and Queen Dowager of Misthaven. She has fulfilled the terms of her contract, and I am bound to provide her one favor of her choosing at an undetermined time in the future.**_

It lacked the finesse of his later contracts, but it was evident that this one bound him as surely as all the others did. But it was the final lines of the contract, written crookedly as if they were added much later, that stole her breath and poured ice in her soul. Because it was dated from a week ago, the day Regina escaped.

 _ **The Queen has claimed her favor, and I released her from the dungeon that once held my predecessor. Our contract is now fulfilled.**_

It was him. He did it. It was all his fault.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 23.

He awoke suddenly. Shooting upright, he cast a glance about him, trying to orient himself, and as he took in the guest chambers he was situated in, the memory of the last day returned abruptly to his mind.

The queen's castle. The storm. The fear.

He shook his head slightly, trying to shake off the vestiges of sleep as he puzzled to himself over what had happened.

How was it possible that he kept falling asleep? He had been the Dark One for nearly thirty years, and up until the night he got drunk in his cabin, he had never slept. It was in the wake of that discovery that he had chosen to dedicate his time to creating intricate maps of any land that he could sail too, to keep his mind occupied during the many long nights.

Though he only had one hand, he had discovered that he could use his magic as an extension of his arm, holding the pages steady or turning them as he needed, instinctively commanding his power to his desires.

When he had first acquired his power, he tried to avoid using magic where he could, trying to shove away the whispers that urged him so sweetly. But as the first people called to him, he found himself using magic more and more often to uphold his end of the deals he was making. Within a few years, using his power had become as instinctive as breathing, easily bowing to his desires, though he never had to command it. But as the years had progressed, the whispers urged him to seek out knowledge, to study the craft, to empower himself further.

But the idea of becoming a student of magic reminded him too much of his predecessor. The Crocodile had never stopped trying to learn new methods of magic and trying to twist other's desires to learn to his own advantage. Despite the naggings of the darkness within, his hatred for the Crocodile ran too deep for him to even contemplate the idea of following in his footsteps.

But some behaviors that defined his nemesis were simply unavoidable due to the bargain that comes with the Dark One's power. He had no choice but to answer the call of the desprate, to adhere to the terms of the contracts, to demand reparation for his assistance, to never rest in his darkness.

That thought brought him back to the original question- how was it he had been able to sleep? He shook his head in bewilderment as his feet hit the floor, making his way to the window, observing the now clear skies that had unleashed such a tempest the night before.

Thinking of the storm suddenly brought his thoughts to the ship and the woman now aboard her. A vague memory of a woman crying for help in a darkness that did not whisper. A flash of light in the dark that did not bring comfort.

Shaking his head to dispel the vague impressions, he collected himself. He needed to send the Princess her morning meal, as well as retrieve anything she had left outside her door.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his ever present bond with his ship to pull his awareness toward his old girl. But as he strengthened his connection, something seemed to resist him, refusing to allow his power to complete the connection. Furrowing his brows, his magic instinctively reached out, probing for what was interfering with his power. A barrier extended out in all directions arching over the castle.

The blood magic barrier.

He opened his eyes with an oath. The barrier would detect any incoming or outgoing spells. So if he tried to send anything out to his ship and to the Princess, the Queen would detect it. Which of course would prompt Her Nosiness to question him and arouse her suspicion.

Sighing, he pondered what was to be done. After a few moments, he realized that he wouldn't be able to come up with a solution at the moment, and she still needed to eat. He would see to her needs now and use the remainder of the day to come up with a solution.

 _Or you could just leave her to die. Let her rot. It's not like you would be responsible if she died. She was the one who damned herself. You would just be letting her get along with what she wanted. It would be easy….. Dearie._

The endearment set his teeth on edge. "Be silent demon."

 _Ahah, none of that now, dearie._

An image flickered in the corner of his eye and he jerked around to take in the sight of The Crocodile leaning casually against the wall by the door.

"YOU?!" he flinched back. "How are you here?"

The imp straightened with a cackle, prancing forward a few steps with an extravagant flourish. "Hello there dearie."

He couldn't help but stagger away as the figure approached him, a reaction born of emotions so deeply ingrained and so deeply buried that he could not name them. At his retreat, a maniacal gleam entered the demon's yellow eyes.

"Ohho, what's the matter dearie? You look like you've seen a ghost, nyaha!"

A fury unlike anything he had felt in three decades overtook him. _Yes, let the anger burn inside you. Feel the power. That hatred that makes you so strong. Use it. Welcome it. Let it fill you._

His jaw snapped shut as he snarled, taking a step back toward the shade, recovering the ground lost in his instinctive retreat. The specter raised an amused eyebrow as it sneered at him. "What are you going to do, dearie? Flash you eyes and clench your jaw at me?"

A haze of red overtook his vision, the coil of black fury clenching in his chest reared its head. The edges of his sights faded and all he could see was the path that his hook would trace as he buried it into the Crocodile's neck. His arm raised of its own accord, ready to follow the path.

But his hand hesitated when, without warning, he felt the slide of another will against his own. The demon's haughty expression flickered with irritation and panic, and the specter opened his mouth, as if to offer a hasty taunt, but the words were soundless as another voice filled his mind.

A voice as soft as wind through the leaves and carrying the wisdom of mountains. A voice that had soothed the terrors of the night and the nightmares of the day for as long as he had know to be frightened of them. A voice as gentle as the summer swells and as powerful as the northern squalls. A voice that always carried comport and kindness, sternness and guidance, laughter and music. The voice of home.

Peace, dear one.

With that quiet whisper, not a command but a plea born of heartfelt concern, a blossom of warmth bloomed in his chest and his eyes suddenly cleared. The image of the demon before him wavered, as, deep within him, he could feel the darkness spitting and hissing, trying to regain its hold. But, just as it had in his cabin, once the darkness's grip on his mind slipped, he was able to wrench himself free, and like dust in the wind, the image of his nemesis withered away to nothing.

He looked about him, panting harshly, trying to figure out when he was suddenly so chilled. As he looked down at himself, he found his answer. His whole body was trembling and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. But the sensation that captured his focus was the sensation of something draping off his shoulders, sliding over his soul, and he realized that his ship had once again utilized the power of the dagger. However, he felt no compulsion to obey, no lingering craving in his core to see the order complete. So she had not used it to command him.

"How are you doing that old girl?" he whispered, wiping a shaky hand over his face, not really expecting an answer.

I told you, dear one. I will always be with you.

His back stiffened in surprise as he again felt her whisper caress his mind. Could she reach him because she had the dagger? But then he felt the weight on his shoulders and around his soul slowly slide away, like a warm blanket being removed, until he suddenly felt a shiver as he was left alone again.

With his mind empty and clear of the fog that darkness had stirred up, he returned to the issue that had initially started his episode. The Princess. She needed food. Knowing he would need to come up with a permanent solution, he reached out to his ship again.

The connection drew his awareness to the timbers and lines that he knew so well, following them down into the Captain's Cabin. Once the connection was made, he pushed his magic past the blood barrier to summon her meal. Recalling the storm the night before, he thought she might like something indulgent, and so included drinking chocolate. He had grown fond of the drink while he traveled the desert lands, where it was first introduced to him.

Satisfied with the summoned meal, he quickly conjured up a letter, knowing that he had a limited amount of time. He directed her below decks for the day, thinking that she would probably want a reprieve from the sun and elements. Directing his focus toward the threshold outside the door, he released one last burst of magic to create a delayed summoning spell, so if she required anything, he would receive it without having to push magic through the barrier again.

Once the spell was placed, he quickly severed the connection and withdrew his power, sensing magic approaching. He only had time to tidy his appearance with a quick wave of his hand, chuckling quietly to himself as he did.

"Five, four, three, two….."

His chamber door slammed open, revealing the Evil Queen in all her gaudy glory, hair coiffed to an astounding height and neckline plunging to an indecent one.

"What are you doing?" she barked out.

"Well good morning to you too, lass," he answered with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't give me that, _Captain_ ," she sneered. "I know you used magic outside the barrier. I felt your power breaching it. Just what are you up too?"

Irritation flared up at her presumption to demand an accounting from him, and at her insolent tone. His voice went hard, "Though I am here, I do not cease to be the Dark One simply because you would prefer if I didn't use magic. I have contracts that I am obliged to honor, not that you would know anything about something like that. So I would appreciate if you'd keep your usurping nose out of my affairs."

He regretted baiting her as soon as the words left his mouth, but he could not call them back and he would not try to mitigate his words.

Her face went still, before a slow and coy smile slithered onto her face. "Oh I don't know anything about honor? Says the pirate and embodiment of darkness. And remind me how you came by _your_ power? Oh thats right, you killed the previous Dark One. Using the information _I_ gave you. You haven't forgotten have you?"

He felt something clench in his belly, well aware that his agreement with the Queen, and his assistance in escaping only days ago, had led to the servitude of the woman aboard his ship. Though he had not been there in person to free her, he had masterminded the delivery of the squid ink she needed to get out from the prison that held her.

Clenching his jaw, he managed a sarcastic smile, "Aye well as you said, I killed the previous Dark One and so now have his responsibilities. So I'll use magic as I please." He could see her getting ready to argue with him again, and as he didn't want to spend any more time in her company, decided to giver her ground. "However, as it happens, my obligations conclude this evening. I have one last task to see to, and then I will be fully at your …. disposal."

She considered his words, before she nodded, "Alright, I'll let you finish your little game, Captain. As it happens, I was going to seek you out today anyway."

He raised an uninterested eyebrow, "Whatever for, lass? Need me to join you this ... _evening?_ " His tone left no doubt of his meaning, but he was slightly unsettled when her grin only grew.

"Well, Captain, how ever did you know? My coronation announcement feast is tonight, and I would very much appreciate that you be in attendance."

Trying to keep his face blank, he attempted to puzzle out what exactly she was after, but he still answered as she hoped he would, "Aye, I love a good noshing."

At his words her smile soured, and with a scoff, she disappeared in a ploom of smoke. He chuckled lightly before looking around, deciding what he was going to do with his day. He wanted to check on the horse, so maybe he should go riding.

With a thought, he appeared in the stables, startling the young lad working the hey. The boy's eyes widened in fear at his appearance, and for some reason instead of the usual coil of satisfaction he usually felt at the smell of terror, the boy's obvious fear churned his stomach.

"Morning lad," he tried, lightly. "'M here to see my horse, a black palomino with blue eyes. I fancied myself a ride this morning."

The boy still seemed frozen in fear, but as the silence after his words lengthened and nothing happened to him, the lad seemed to realize that he should be doing something.

"Oh, ya, of course sir. Right away, sir. The black palomino?"

"Aye."

"He's a beautiful horse sir," the boy pointed out as he wandered deeper into the stables. "A very smart animal sir, and gentle as a lamb."

He scoffed to himself, recalling the first encounter he had with the horse and "gentle as a lamb" was not the first description he would put to the beast, though he couldn't deny the first statement. The horse was uncannily perceptive.

As his mind ran away from him, his thoughts drifted to the horse's true owner. The princess. He wondered if she was awake yet, and if she enjoyed the meal he sent her.

 _What sort of pathetic mess of a man are you? Hoping she enjoyed her meal….? You sound like a servant, like her slave. Like she is your Master._

At the word the darkness whispered, he swallowed, before coming to a sudden revelation. The darkness was most active when his thoughts dwelt on the the princess, and more than that, on her welfare.

 _She is making you weak. She is dragging you down. You need to destroy her. Make her bow to you. Kill her!_

And then it clicked. Whatever that princess had, be it her naivete, he innocence, her selfless courage, or the light she seemed to emit, the darkness was threatened by her. Ann more than that, the darkness was _afraid_.

He felt it begin to bubble up, as it was trying to bridge the chasm that had formed between his perception of the darkness and the perception of himself. He could feel thick tendrils coiling around his chest, and the sensation brought back the memory of those few moments in his cabin when his will had been beyond his control. And with that memory came _fear_. And the whispered latched on to the weakness like a vice.

 _If you just gave in. If you just returned to the darkness, you would have no need to fear. Stop trying to become something else, and allow yourself to revel in all the depravity you once enjoyed. Remember, you were full to the brim with darkness long before you landed the final blow. You will never be able to resist, because you ARE the darkness. These thoughts come from you. We just give you the power. The FREEDOM to see it through._

His vision went hazy as the voiceless words started to make his resolve waver. They were right, he had already fallen into darkness long before he had voices in his mind. Perhaps it would be better, easier if he just ga-

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by velvety lips nibbling at his face. The line of thinking vanished as he jerked back with a disgusted scowl. "Oh come on now mate was that really necessary?" he grumbled, wiping his face on his sleeve as the horse pulled back to give a whicker of greeting.

Focusing now, he saw the boy standing with reins, a hopeful expression on his face. Reaching out to take them from the lad, he nodded, "Well done lad, thank you. Would you mind bringing his taking over here as well?"

"Of course sir!" The boy's enthusiasm to help amused him as he watch the lad scamper off to find the saddle. Watching for a moment with a small smile, he turned back to Dilis, who was regarding him with interest.

"How has your stay been then, eh? Hopefully more pleasant than mine, had a run in with Quaffed and Cranky this morning. Awful woman. Would recommend staying away from her."

The horse rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his words, before giving a shake.

"Aye, I could do with fresh air meself. What do you say we go find ourselves a couple of lovely lasses, eh?"

The horse looked at him blankly.

"Aye, you're probably right. Nothing in this little corner of hell to be of interest. Foolish thought."

Dilis stamped his feet, shying slightly to the side.

"A hard run it is then." He nodded in agreement with the beast, reaching out to comb through the long forelocks.

The horse did not get a chance to respond as the boy returned, huffing and puffing as he jerkily walked with the saddle resting on his hip. He watched with amusement the horror that passed over the lad's face as he looked to where he needed to put the saddle and realizing that it was several inches above his head.

Before the boy could attempt something and hurt himself, he stepped forward, easily pulling the saddle from the boy's hands, "Here lad, let me."

The relief that painted the boy's face sent another gut clenching stab through him, and made him curious enough to ask, "Boy, tell me, why are you working here? These beasts are not meant to be handled by one so young."

At his words, the boy's face grew fearful and he started to step away, so he changed tactics. "Well at least let me have the honor of knowing your name, so that next time I fancy a ride I can request your services."

And while the lad's face remained fearful, a sparkle glimmered in his eye. "My name's Michael."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Michael," he said as he gave the most proper of courtly bows to the boy, whose whole face seemed to light up with delight, and he again felt something twinge in his belly.

Michael giggled slightly, "And a pleasure to make yours, sir!" as he tried to imitate his bow, with marginal success. But when Michael straightened, a beaming smile on his lips, he could have cared less if the boy had fallen over in his attempt, so long as that smile stayed on his face.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?" Michael asked, sounding much more sincere that when he had first asked the question.

"Just your company, if you'd be willing to give it."

Michael happily obliged and he prattled on about subjects he didn't understand, simply the expression of the ramblings of a child's mind, while he worked to tighten the girth and other saddle straps. Just as he was about to finish, the boy's voice died out.

"Yeah and then my sister, brother, and I…"

He looked over at MIchael's face to see a shadow pass over it that did not belong on a child's form.

"Michael?" he whispered softly.

The boy paused for a moment, not meeting his eyes, before he spoke in a broken tone, "My little brother, John, accidentally ran in front of one's of the Queen's knight's horses and caused the rider to be thrown. He said that it ruined his uniform, and that John had to pay to have a new one made. But we were poor, so the knights said that we could work off our brother's debt at the castle. I got assigned here, wendy, my sister, is working in the kitchen's I think, and they have John locked up somewhere. I haven't seen them in over a week. I-" His voice cracked and he fell silent.

And suddenly he wanted to help this boy. Not out of any deal or for repayment. He simply decided that he was going to do this for Michael. "There, there, lad, don't despair quite yet. I'll tell you what- I'll keep an eye out for this little lass and lad of yours, and if I find them, I'll let them know where you are and you are doing. And once I've spoken to them, I'll come back down here to relay any messages they might have for you. That sound alright?"

Michael blinked owlishly at him, seeming to be in shock at his offer. Taking advantage of the boy's silence, be put his foot in the stirup and heaved himself up onto Dilis. Michael had regained his faculties by then, and was looking at him with an expression far to sincere for his age.

"Thank you sir. I am in your debt, and I don't know how I will ever repay you, but I promise, if you ever need anything, I'm your man."

The demon whispered about debts and throwing his offer back in the boy's face, but the part of him that seemed to have been rekindled since meeting the princess glowed with pride and humbleness at the gratitude in the boy's voice.

"I thank you Michael, such an assurance is comforting to me. And you have my word, should I ever need something, I will come to you first."

Michael gave a stiff nod, and after regarding the boy a moment longer, he nudged Dilis around and left the stables, guiding the horse outside the walls and into the lands beyond.

Dilis looked over his shoulder, a questioning look in his eye, and he couldn't help but be honest with the beast.

"He reminded me of …." but he couldn't get the words out, and for once the horse didn't object to his lack of answer, simply giving him a knowing look before turning to look ahead, and slowly gaining speed until they were flying over the the undergrowth, outrunning the memories and thoughts that plagued him.

Finally, Dilis began to tire, and as his speed slowed to a walk, he noticed a lake not too far from where they were. Having heard the conversation the evil one had had with the young boy, he began to reevaluate his opinion of the man, though he still stunk of evil and darkness. But it seemed like instead of reveling in it, as he had on the beach, the man now seemed to be struggling. There was a tension about him that not even galloping had been able to ease. But he thought about it, and the scent of the sea that was barely perceptible under the reek of the evil in him, and he had an idea. Perhaps the man needed something more familiar to ease his mind. And so, without direction, he turned them towards the lake at a trot, wondering how the man would react.

As the horse turned without warning, he looked down in confusion, but a moment later, when the fresh smell of water hit his nose, he looked up to see a lake at the bottom of the hill they were now cresting. And just the sight of the sun rippling on the water began to soothe him in a way he hadn't realized he needed until that moment. And then suddenly the horse's actions became clear, and he leaned over to run his hand up the beast's neck.

"Thank you, my friend."

The horse responded with a quiet nicker, acknowledging his simple gratitude for the gift.

Once they reached the lakeside, he slid off Dilis's back, loosening his girth and removing the reins. "You go find yourself something delicious and relax. I'll be about for a bit."

The horse dipped his head, gently bumping his shoulder, before turning and ambling off to a nearby glen, where he promptly began feasting.

He smiled to himself before turning to wander as well, deciding to take his shoes off a few minutes later and feel the water. As he wandered further and further along the shore line, something began to become unsettled within him. An awareness was creeping over him, though he wasn't sure why.

However as he made his way around a large pile of rocks, he found his answer in the form of a boy about Michael's age or a little younger, sitting with his feet pulled up, staring out at the water.

Something about this boy drew him in. He couldn't look away and could not resist the pull toward him. He made plenty of noise to alert the boy of his presence and when he got close enough to see the boy gripping tightly at the sleeves of his tunic, the child turn to look at him.

As their eyes met, time itself seemed to stop, much as it had on the beach, and he felt another irreversible change take place. Then the moment passed as the boy spoke up, "what do you want?"

Feeling somewhat chagrined that a child had unsettled him, he absently reached up with his hook to scratch behind his ear, given that his shoes were in his hand. "I want nothing lad. I was merely exploring the lake here, while my horse rests for a bit."

"Oh," The boy was still watching him with eyes that seemed familiar to him, though he couldn't place why. "Are you here as a guest of _her_?"

He quickly understood from the boy's tone that he harbored no love for Regina and lumped in those who associated with her in the same category. And for some reason he didn't want the boy to think of him like that.

He glanced down as he answered, "Aye,I am, though mostly unwillingly." But as his eyes were lowered he noticed that the boy's knees were scraped and bloodied, and suddenly an almost violent urge to protect, to heal came over him. He recalled the same burning sensation rising up in him when the princess had stumbled on deck because of her saddle sores. "But that's not important. What happened to your legs?"

The boy glanced down, surprise flashing across his face at the question. "Oh, I was climbing some rocks and slipped, and skidded down to the ground. It's fine though, they don't hurt too badly."

Despite the boy's dismissive tone, he couldn't let it go, so he hesitantly took a step forward, asking, "I have some bit of skill healing. Would you please allow me?"

The boy's eyes widened, "Oh no really you don't have to, it's fine. Really."

"I want to. Please, I insist."

The boy looked hard at him for a moment, before nodding slowly, "Ok. If you want to."

Something almost like relief swept over him as he stepped forward, and as he got close enough to see the wounds in detail, an feeling unlike anything he had experienced since living in that accursed land so long ago flared up brightly in him. He suddenly understood what his brother meant when he said that he _needed_ to protect him.

And at the thought, the ever present memory of his brother's final moment began to play out behind his eyes as his hand reached forward to gently lay on the cuts and scraps, feeling that same warmth flowing out of him as it had with the princess, while in his mind's eye, he saw his brother's prone form before him, taking his last breath.

 _Liam!_

He shook away the echoes of that day as he felt the wounds begin to close under his palm. The boy twitched slightly and he looked up to his face in alarm, noting his eyes were screwed shut. But the boy seemed to sense his gaze and his eyes popped open, offering the answer to a question he hadn't got to ask.

"It itches." he twitched again.

"Ah, my apologies. It'll all be over in a moment though."

And minute later he pulled his hand back, stepping away from the boy to give him his space. He was going to just bid the lad farewell, but he hesitated, not wanting to leave his the boy seemed to solve the problem for him.

"What's your name?"

He looked over at the boy's clear eyes, and without hesitation, he told him the truth. 'My name is Captain Killian Jones. Though in another life I was called by a name you might know me by. Captain Hook."

The boy's eyes widened. "That's so cool! My mom used to read me stories about you. I always thought you were so amazing!"

He actually felt a blush creeping up his face at the boy's praise, but felt the need to dissolution the boy before he got any ideas. "Aye, that may have been, but I am not so amazing now. Quite the opposite in fact."

The darkness hissed and spit, sensing his inner turmoil. But the boy caught him off guard.

"You're Captain Hook so you're the Dark One now, right?"

He froze, staring hard at the boy as the darkness got louder in his ears. "Aye, that I am," he choked out. "But how do you know who I am?"

"I told you, my mom used to tell me stories about you, including how you managed to get all the way down into the castle while everyone was distracted."

His thoughts whirled. Only a few people knew where the previous Dark One had been kept, and even fewer knew who had slayed him. He needed to know how this boy knew.

"Who is your mother, boy?"

The lad sent him a sad smile, hopping to his feet before sketching a perfect bow. "Where are my manners, mom would be ashamed. Allow me to introduce myself. Henry, Prince of the realm, the last remaining member of the Misthaven Royal Family and heir to the throne."

His whole body froze as he stared at Henry, a single thought possessing his mind.

Emma had a son.


	25. Chapter 25

She stared down at the hastily altered contract in her hands. With two sentences, her whole life had been destroyed. And now she was enslaved to the very man- no, the monster- that had caused it.

Her whole body began to shake, but it was with an emotion she had never experienced  
with such intensity. Wrath.

"How could he?"

A fury welled up in her that had her whole body vibrating with energy. Her family was gone, her  
kingdom was on the brink of falling, her SON was taken from her forever. And it was all his fault.

As she sat amongst his possessions, she wanted to destroy them. Rip every picture apart, burn every log, throw all his precious articles into the sea he so worshipped. She wanted to _destroy_ his life as he had hers.

"I'm going to…..." she petered off into a scream, unable to give voice to her thoughts.

You see little one, how easy it is to give into the call?

The thought sounded as if it had creaked out from the very fibers of the ship, and the welling up of white-hot rage settled, coiling viciously in her belly. But despite the turmoil, she was suddenly faced  
with a revelation that unsettled her right down to her core.

She _understood_ why Regina acted the way she had. Her life had been taken from her, and how else was one supposed to collect payment on something so precious, except by taking another's . Hadn't her mother always said that Regina blamed her for destroying her life and that it was the truth?

And the captain...he had his life stolen twice and taken the second thief's as payment. And she had the consolation of knowing that her son, the light of her life, was at least alive and that there was a possibility of her kingdom being saved. Neither Regina nor the Dark One had any such comforts. When their lives had been destroyed, so had their hope of satisfaction in the life they might have lived.

But despite the understanding, she could not help the fury that was still roiling within her. She wanted to _hurt,_ to lash out and make another feel as she did. But she also felt guilty. Her parents had always said that heroes never let themselves be beaten by their own darkness, and she had often told Henry that anger wasn't the answer. But here she was, on the brink of giving in to her hate and her fear.

Tears started to well up in her eyes as she tried to make sense of her inner turmoil. Her hate. Her hope. Her despair. Her devotion. Her loss. Her love. Her fear. Her family.

She clenched her jaw and hands, jerking in surprise when she realized there was something in her hand. Looking down through blurry eyes, she took in the rose. She had no idea when she had picked it back up, but looking at the fragile bloom now, she couldn't help but see herself. A fragile life clutched in a hand far more powerful than hers, ready to be crushed at the whim of uncontrollable emotions.

"Why?" she demanded of the blossom, still undiminished despite the time she had possessed it and all her caresses. "Why?"

She wasn't sure what she was asking the little flower. Why did hate have to spread itself? Why did people have to lose? Why was fate so cruel? Why did it have to be her family? Just… why?

She couldn't hold her turmoil in anymore, and great, heaving sobs ripped through her body. Her body curling protectively around the flower as if she could do the same for herself. She felt her muscles ache with the one day of labor she had performed. She felt her heartbreak for the thousands who would fall victim to Regina's cruelty. She felt her spirit shatter as she finally accepted that her parents might be among them.

She sobbed for all she had lost and all she could have had until there was nothing left inside her but an abyss of exhaustion that had her slumping against the wooden shelves behind her. As her eyes fluttered shut, she thought she heard a creaking whisper.

Sleep little one, and I will tell you a tale. The story of how it all began…

 _The first vestiges of awareness came in the form of warmth and light. Her first memory was of the sunrise hitting her first sprouts. She could still recall the sensation, and it had always been her understanding of what birth felt like. An emergence into light, into life._

 _Each day brought with it new experiences, like cold, and rain, and lightning. She remembered how her small stalk had trembled in that first storm. The wind tugging at her roots and bending her few frail branches, thunder rattling her very being with every searing flash of light that illuminated the darkened sky. But she had learned a valuable lesson, that storms pass. And when the sun emerged from the clouds, she had never been more grateful for the sunshine, her roots stronger than they were before._

 _And so each day passed, and as she grew, her roots stretching out into the ever breathing earth beneath her, she became a part of the land. The mountains became her spine, the coast her loving arms, and all in between held in her careful embrace, a guardian over her corner of the world._

 _Her trunk grew strong, and her limbs became plentiful. Her roots broke the surface of the  
warm soil, sprouting into new growth. Her form became the shadow of strength in which many creatures began to take shelter. Her long branches became the home of the wanderers on the wind, creatures with feathers and beaks. While beneath her, her roots became the sturdy barrow walls of the small lives of fur and flesh._

 _And she loved them all. Every living thing that fell beneath her shadow was precious to her. But none more so than the creatures that arrived on her shore many, many sunrises after her first._

 _They came to her over the great waves. The seas that brought her the music of all the worlds carried on the wind bore an even greater gift for her. They called themselves men. And they were weak, helpless, lost, hungry. So she stretched out her limbs and brought them to her shade. And unlike every other creature, when they heard her offer them home, they thanked her._

 _In return for their willing adoration, she taught them how to live. She gave them knowledge of the creatures that took shelter with her, the food she cultivated in the shadow of her leaves. She watched the women as their bellies grew heavy with child. She delighted in teaching their children the same lessons she taught their parents. She taught them to hear her song._

 _And for a long while, she was content. The people who had landed on her shores asked, and were given, materials to build themselves shelters. And while it hurt, she was more than happy to sacrifice a small part of herself to keep her family safe- a concept she learned from them._

 _The first thread of fate was woven when one man decided that the gifts freely given were no longer enough for him, and he demanded more, not just from her, but from all. And so the thread of greed was strung across the loom._

 _And then next thread was when a desperate woman hit her child because she could not figure out how to get it to stop crying. And a man saw her do it, went home, and tried to silence his wife the same way. And when it worked as effectively on his wife as it had on the child, the man told his friends. And when they understood that a closed fist was able to take as well as an open palm, they desired more than what was offered. And so the thread of wrath was woven._

 _And when a child saw another playing with a beautiful flower and wanted it, he snatched it from the other boy's hand, destroying the flower in the process. Then the boy blamed the other for keeping the flower for himself, and that if the boy had only shared, the flower wouldn't have been ruined. And so the thread of envy was woven._

 _And when a man observed a woman bathing and decided to slake his thirst, the thread of lust was woven._

 _And when a woman made her husband gather her food for her, and enjoyed the fruits of his labor without lifting her own hand to help, the thread of sloth was woven._

 _And when a man thought that his life mattered more than any of the others she sheltered in her shade, the thread of pride was woven._

 _And when a couple figured out that consuming was preferable to producing, and took without ever giving back, the thread of gluttony was woven._

 _What had begun as a beautiful tapestry of white now had veins as black as the sins they carried woven through it. And the threads were woven into the hearts and souls of every human, inescapable and permanent, poisoning the bloodline. They took from her without asking, never giving thanks. Their buildings grew larger, and so they began to cut down her boughs, not to use, but because she was in the way._

 _Ages continued to pass._

 _Humanity prospered, for despite the darkness that now permeated them, many tried valiantly to sever those threads within them and strive to live as their ancestors did. Old wisdom was lost, but younger generations uncovered newer mysteries. And many still knew that their guardian watched over them._

 _One day a man came to sit in her shadow and asked her to sing. And every day, the man returned, to hear her voice and her song. He was kind and compassionate, gentle and calm, at peace with the world he understood, a fortress of calm in the sea of turmoil that humanity had created._

 _A fortress at sea._

 _Merlin._

 _It was then that he whispered to her the secret of her creation, of the spot where she now stood being the same place he had found a sacred vessel. How the seeds that were planted were those of protection and gratitude. He thanks her for trying to teach those who came to her shores how to live without darkness._

 _Then he grew sad. He said that the darkness would always find a way to take root in the souls of humans. He pulled out a blade that emanated evil, made of the same material as the threads of the dark in the tapestry, a blade twisted and sharp. He thanked her for listening and asked her to continue to grow and show men how to love._

 _Then he left, the man who created her. It was beneath her farthest boughs that he sought to try and end his love, but he could not bring himself to do it. So when she reached out to curse him with the blade he had created, she did the only thing she could- she reached out to him. He became one with his first creation, and she was able to give him the peace he deserved._

 _She mourned her creator, whom she had barely known and withdrew into herself, not able to bear watching the pain of the world unfold. Kingdoms rose, dividing and destroying her great reach, as people used her more and more. Until one day, there was only one small grove left of her on the shores of the sea. And it was there, in a small cottage by the sea, that she watched a small child being born, with blue eyes and beautiful raven hair._

 _Alice._


	26. Chapter 26

So, as promised, not dead, just a sort of frozen in carbonite type situation. Sorry about the two years and all. Life and jobs and muses and new works in progress and ... life have a habit of getting in the way sometimes. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

He couldn't help but stare at the lad, shock filling him as he cataloged the boy's face more closely. Now that he was looking for it, he could see her in his chin, nose, and ears. But it was the lad's eyes that really captured his attention. Eyes that he had not seen in centuries.

But that wasn't possible.

"Wait lad- the princess never had a son."

Henry sighed, flopping back down onto the rock he was perched on. "Yeah, see, my mom had only just found out she was pregnant when she got word that my father had died in the Ogre Wars. So Grandma and Grandpa decided it would be safest to keep me a secret. As the lone heir to the throne, I'd have been a target to anyone who might want to try and marry my mom. So they told everyone that Mom was going on a retreat so she could stay at the Winter Palace while she was pregnant. Then once she returned, they said that I was a ward of the state so that I could stay with her. Nobody ever really figured it out." The boy shrugged.

As the darkness reared up with excitement at this revelation, Killian ignored it in favor of asking, "But if that's true lad, why are you telling me?"

Henry shrugged again, "The Evil Qu-Regina, I'm supposed to call her Regina- since Regina took over, my title doesn't matter all that much. And she doesn't know who I am beyond the favored child at court. And since my whole family is dead…I guess I just wanted someone to know who I was. That I had a family, that I was loved….." his voice grew thick and he petered off.

As Henry's voice caught, he looked more closely at the boy and saw dried tear tracks on his face. Killian realized that he must have come out here to mourn in peace. He could not imagine what the boy was going through. No hope of any family left, and forced to live under the same roof as the woman who had killed them.

"Lad- your fam-" he cut himself off, despite the urge to comfort the boy. He had no idea if Henry's grandparents still lived, and his mother was essentially imprisoned on his ship, enslaved to his will. He felt a roiling wash of horrified disgust. How could he tell he tell her boy that even though she lived, he would never see her again? That she had sold her life to save her family's? Her desperate pleading suddenly made sense. It was not just her parents and her kingdom that she had begged him to save, but her only son.

He recalled that she had never specified which who she was asking him to protect, just "her family."

The darkness growled as it realized that for once, someone had managed to slip their own desires into a contract, instead of the other way around. But Killian had to admire her tenacity- even as frail and trembling as she had been, she still managed to outmaneuver him.

He realized that the boy was still looking at him with an earnest and slightly desperate expression on his face as he waited for the ending of the sentence. The darkness writhed up towards his lips, desperate to break the small light in the boy's eyes, somehow still lingering despite all he'd lost. It whispered all that he owed it to the boy to tell him the truth, that to do anything else would simply be cruel.

He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, summoning what strength he had within himself. He refused to make another suffer for the choices he'd made.

 _But people will always suffer around you. They always have. It's not me, dearie. Just think about it- the suffering started long before me. Your mother only died after you were born. And your father only abandoned your brother because you were too much work. And just think, if you hadn't goaded him on, your brother would still be alive._

 _And so would Milah._

He felt guilt and fury in equal measure swell up within him as the darkness goaded him onward. He felt it coiling tightly around his mind, using every moment of self loathing he possessed to cripple his will. He could almost feel the darkness beginning to coalesce into bis predecessor.

Milah's face began to swim behind his lids, and the tell tale waves of vertigo washed over him, creeping along his limbs.

"Are you ok?"

Henry's worried voice broke through the dark spiral in his mind, forcing his eyes open.

The boy's eyes, so clear and untainted, looked over his face with concern, an expression heavy on his brows, the likes of which no child should wear.

He was going to answer when the darkness reared up again, choking off his words. He refused to let the demon speak with his mouth, and he dropped his eyes to keep the boy from seeing whatever demon lurked within him.

Then he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. His head snapped up to see a knowing look on Henry's face, but not an ounce of fear.

"Henry, lad," he gasped out in warning, trying to urge the boy away from him because he could not risk moving himself, but again the darkness kept him from speaking. But where Henry's hand rested seemed to emanate warmth that was seeping into his very muscles and bones. Filling him with light.

"You know," Henry continued, casually, "there was another part of the story that my mom always refused to tell me, but I heard some chambermaids talking about it while they finished the feasting wine after a ball. Supposedly, the reason that there were so few guards at the Dark One's cell that night was because they were all guarding my grandmother in case Regina should try to cast her Dark Curse while she was giving birth to my mom."

And suddenly, the princess's influence over him became clear. Her birth coincided with his own. Where there was great darkness in the world, fate would always provide balance. The moment darkness had been set loose and reborn, so too had light and salvation. She was born to be his bane, to be the light in the darkness.

And this boy was of her bloodline, so it made sense that he carried some of her fate-granted grace.

The darkness hissed, and swelled up with such violence that his fingers twitched at his side, and his heart stuttered in his chest. But the boy wasn't finished.

"But my… my mom always finished the story the same way, any time I'd ask her to tell it. She always said that it must have taken a truly good man to kill darkness itself for love."

And it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds and bathed him in its rays. The darkness fell by the wayside with a strangled sound and then was still, unable to twist the warmth in his belly that came with the deepest memories of Milah and his brother, where their faces and smiles were intrinsically tied to his heart. He looked back up at the boy and was shocked to see an easy, if sad, smile on his face.

"And now that I've met you, it just proves that she was right."

He actually trembled slightly at the boy's words, shocked that the boy had known that he bore the title of the Dark One, and still chose to speak to him as a friend. "How can you think well of me, knowing the sort of monster that I am?"

Henry tilted his head slightly, before he shrugged, "Well the family of a slain deer would think the hunter is a monster, but the hunter's family loves him because he ensured they could keep living. But the wolf who killed the hunter to feed its own family is now a monster to those who remain. Guess the monster depends on what side you are looking from."

"Henry," he let out a shaky sigh, "lad it's not that simple."

Henry just pulled his hand back with a shrug, flopping back down onto the rock next to him, "Eh adults always say that. It's always when they don't want to admit that it is."

Killian gave a quiet laugh, still shaken from the absolute acceptance that he'd been offered. As he did, he heard something wood rolling down the stone and falling with a tiny plunk into the lake.

"Awww," whined Henry, turning towards the sound of the splash, "I wasn't finished with my drawing yet."

Killian looked over at him, "Was that your pencil, lad?"

Henry nodded, "I was trying to see if I could…." the lad's voice falter as emotion welled up. He gallantly tried to clear his throat, "Ahem, I was trying to see if I could sketch my mom's face from memory. I thought that if I could do it every once in a while, I won't…. forget what she looks like." His voice faded away into a sharp breath.

The violent urge swelled up within him again- not to break or hurt him, but to protect and soothe, to find some way to comfort this grieving boy before him, thrust into his fate by the decisions of his elders.

"Henry, lad," he said softly, waiting for the boy to bring his watery eyes up to meet his own. "Give me your hand."

Henry offered his palm without hesitation, the absolute trust so freely offered to him making his stomach flutter.

He gently took Henry's hand, putting his own underneath it, finding a small comfort in his heart that he could at least help the boy hold up this small weight.

Then he said quietly, "Close your eyes lad and picture your mother. Her voice, her laugh, her smile, the things you loved most about her. See it in your mind and hold onto it with all your concentration."

As he described the memories to Henry, Liam's twinkling eye and Milah's coy smile surfaced in is mind, the firm clap of his brother's hand on his shoulder and Milah's delighted laugh on the wind. And the warmth of the Princess's body as he carried her to his bunk.

He released the magic almost without realizing it. But abruptly a small plume of black smoke curled around Henry's hand and dissipated to reveal a rolled up piece of parchment.

Henry gasped and for a moment, Killian was concerned that he'd frightened the boy, but Henry's delighted, "That's amazing!" soothed his worry.

Henry pulled his hand back, seeming eager to look at what he'd summoned. But when he'd unrolled the parchment he let out a second gasp, this one strangled with emotion, as the young lad went absolutely still. Killian wasn't sure what the image on the parchment was, but he knew what he had summoned it to do.

It was his turn to put his hand on Henry's shoulder, "Lad, whenever you feel you need to be reminded of her, open this scroll and whisper 'I want to remember' and it will ensure that you do."

Henry looked at him, before rolling it up and tucking it carefully into his tunic. And then he did something that caught him completely off guard.

Henry threw his arms around his shoulders, forcing his weight off the rock, and he only just managed to keep himself upright as he slid from the top of the stone. He heard Henry give a quiet, watery laugh as he clung to his shoulders, the weight and warmth chasing away any vestiges of lingering darkness from his mind, for the moment.

As he held the small form to his body, he looked up at the sky in an attempt to keep his composure, the wash of emotions rolling through him unexpected, and not entirely unwelcome, making his eyes burn. But when he tipped his head upward, he noticed that the sun had sunk much farther towards the distant horizon that he had thought.

He gave Henry one last squeeze, trying to engrave the sensation into his mind, before he slowly pulled back.

"Come lad, let's get you back to the castle. Apparently there's going to be a grand feast that the Evil Queen intends to torture us with."

He winced, hoping his words didn't provoke another bought of mourning within the lad, but Henry merely whined, "NNNNNNNNoooooooooooooooooo," before burying his face into Killain's chest as if to hide from the reality of the passage of time.

The sound was so reminiscent of his reactions when Liam used to drag him to briefings that his brother's words slipped from his mouth without his permission.

"Fear not- for I'll always be there to protect you from the boredom."

At those words, Henry let go, landing on his feet just in front of him, looking up into his face with an expression he could not read.

"Do you promise?"

The darkness stirred.

"Aye lad, I promise."

The moment felt heavy, and he could feel the darkness rising in him as the words of his oath lay out in the open air. When he heard Dilis wicker from nearby, they broke their strange connection to look at the horse.

"Come young highness, for your noble steed awaits."

The horse whinnied in surprise when Killian stepped aside, revealing the young prince to him.

He could not believe that his liege lady's boy was here, and with the monster no less. The boy smelled of grief and anguish, but there was also a newly restored lightness, and he looked with a curious eye towards the demon, flicking his tail in approval. Perhaps this tainted man was truly nothing more than that, and not the demon he appeared to be.

Killian noticed the horse's approval, and smiled slightly, ignoring the rising tide of darkness, before offering Henry his hand and hook to use as a step, bending over to put his hand at knee level. Henry braced himself on Killian's shoulder and with grace born of his upbringing, easily swung up into the saddle. As he settled himself in, he looked down at the horse with a sigh.

"My mom was always terrified of horses." Killian looked up at him in shock. Henry misinterpreted his look. "Yeah I know. She always said she didn't like surrendering her fate to something she wasn't sure she could control. Dilis was specially trained for her, from when he was a foal, to be my mother's mount." He brushed his hand over the horse's coat. "She never was able to get over her fear. She only ever rode him if someone held the reigns and guided him around the paddock."

Killian fell into shocked silence, pacing silently next to Dilis and Henry, considering what the boy had just revealed to him. He knew that the great Keep of Misthaven was almost a full day's ride inward from the sea, nestled on the Saifir River, and the ride from the castle to where she'd ended up summoning him was not an easy one, a sizable mountain range shielding the Keep from any attack by sea.

She had ridden across an entire mountain, on a beast she feared, prepared to surrender her freedom to something she fear even more, for the sake of her kingdom and her family. And he had enslaved her for it.

 _That's right. She's yours. All yours. All you need to do is go to her and take her. You have every bargaining chip. You have a secret that the false queen does not know. You have the trust of the heir apparent. The usurper is a weak fool. She is ruled by her fickle emotions. She would be easy to defeat, with the power you hold. You could kill her, and with the boy in your power, you could take the throne. It would be an easy start to invading other lands._

Despite Henry's proximity, he could not seem to quell the whispers. He started to see a figure moving as if through smoke from the corner of his eye, knowing full well what he would see if his eyes slid sideways. Dilis's head whipped around, the horse's intelligent blue eyes surveying him with a certain wariness that left him in no doubt that the horse could sense the upwelling of the darkness in him.

He tried to tamp it down. He did not want to rule anyone.

 _But you so willingly took command of the princess now didn't you dearie?_

He grit his teeth. She had come to him willingly, it was different.

 _She came to you to help her people. To make peace. Can you think of a better way to ensure there is peace in the world that by uniting it under the same hand? No more border conflicts, no more fugitives finding asylum in another kingdom. It would be so easy to conquer it all. You could bring peace to every one then, couldn't you dearie?_

Each whispered word was more compelling than the one before it and he lost all sense of awareness as he tried to find a way to refute the irrefutable logic of the whispers in his mind. The Crocodile was now easy to make out against the backdrop of the forest.

 _Just think. You could outlaw slavery in every land. Make the cruelty of captains punishable by death. Disloyalty by hanging. You could hunt down every murderer and rapist with impunity. All it takes is stretching out your hand and taking what is rightfully yours. You suffered over many lifetimes. You deserve to be the ruler of all. You would have the experience, the wisdom of ages to guide these people. And there would never be the instability that comes with mortal rule. You could join all the kingdoms together under a single, eternal hand of justice._

 _You could be a god to the people you conquer._

"Killian?"

Henry's tiny voice managed to draw his focus away from the darkness' voice in his ear and the figure appearing in his line of sight. He tilted his head to shoot a look at the boy.

"You're hurting me."

Suddenly he became aware of his crushing grip around Henry's leg and jerked free from the grip he had. He couldn't look at the boy, even as the darkness laughed gleefully.

"Henry I'm so sorry I didn't mean to. Please I'm sorry-"

"I know that it wasn't you."

He blinked, his surprise lending him the strength to look the boy in the eye, the confusion written plainly across his face.

Henry gave an awkward shrug, clearing his throat.

"I can see it." Then he fell silent, as if that explained anything.

"See what, lad?" he managed to rasp out, the darkness still thick in his mind.

Henry gave a half gesture towards Killian's form, "The weird shadow snake that's wrapped around you."

Both he and the darkness were so shocked that each fell silent. It took him several moments to fully comprehend Henry's words.

"You can see _it?_ "

Henry nodded. "I've been able to see it since you walked up. It's how I knew who you were. It gets thicker whenever you seem to stop seeing the world. Does it speak to you?"

All he could do was give a shaky nod.

 _END HIM. HE KNOWS TOO MUCH. HE COULD RUIN EVERYTHING. END HIM NOW!_

The screaming in his mind was so strong that he had to stop walking, swaying on his feet as he gripped at his head, trying to find some way to lessen the searing force of wrath and will.

"HENRY!"

The call rang on the wind, drawing the attention of both of them. "HENRY!"

As the call came again, Henry slumped in his seat, several choice curses coming from the young prince's mouth. He couldn't help the amusement that washed over him, his lips tilting up and eyebrow raising in an expression he thought his face no longer remembered how to make.

Another call of the boy's name rang out, proceeding a figure on horseback emerging from the woods in front of him. He recognized the man as the hunter who had accompanied the queen when she'd come to fetch him riding towards them at a fast clip. Henry grumbled a bit more as the rider closed the distance to them.

The man yanked his horse to a harsh stop, and Dilis flicked his ears at the soft squeal the creature made as the bit tore at the corners of his mouth.

"Henry, what do you think you are doing? You've been told not to wander!" The huntsman's voice seemed to carry a stranger sort of worry with it, despite the near expressionlessness of his face. "And you," the huntsman focused on him, "What are you doing here?"

It was the sneer in the words, the vehemence of the question, that told him what he needed to know.

He raised an eyebrow, "I go where I please, Your Majesty." The huntsman's face flickered with surprise before falling back into neutrality. "Aye, I know well enough what it looks like when a person's heart has been removed from their chest."

Henry sucked in a sharp breath beside him. He flicked his eyes over to the boy, noting the pallor that had overtaken his rosy cheeks, and the effort the boy was putting into concealing the fear in his expression.

 _You could use that you know. It's clear that the heir apparent fears the petty queen. It would take nothing to do it. He might even come to…. love you for freeing him from her grip._

The words coiled around the base of his spine, creeping upward under his skin, unable to deny the desire that the darkness was whispering to him. And it knew.

He heard the huntsman scoff, "Well good for you," his voice sneered. "Now, why don't you go polish your hook or something. Henry, come with me. You aren't safe around that… pirate."

The huntsman turned his horse back towards the keep, and Henry had little choice but to follow, both he and Dilis throwing a look back at him as they moved away.

 _Just take him. Kill the huntsman- you're really freeing him anyway. Having your heart ripped out….a fate worse than death isn't it?_

He watched as they vanished into the tree line, before he gave a growl at the whispers. Forcing himself to ignore them, and his swirling thoughts about the implications of Henry being able to perceive the darkness, he focused on his room at the keep, feeling the pull low in his belly before the wash of magic flowed over him, withdrawing as the stone walls came into focus.

His magic still churned within him, reflecting the tumult of his thoughts, pressing outwards as the darkness swelled, urging him to act, the desire to rid the world forever of the usurper making his fingertips prickle.

 _You made a deal, remember dearie? That's why you are here after all. To ensure the safety of the Royal Family right? Rid the world of the 'Evil Queen' and her family will be safe._

"And the you can guiltlessly keep the boy by your side."

He jerked back, the vision of the Crocodile now fully coalesced, as if Henry's presence had somehow been keeping the full vision of his predecessor at bay.

The visage gave him a wicked smile and a cloying laugh

"After all, that's what you seem to want now, isn't it dearie?"

He growled at the spector, trying not to acknowledge it. But he could feel his rage boiling up under his skin. At the situation. At his life. At the demon that stood before him once again.

He could feel it's cold caress slithering up his spine, and his ears began to ring as he felt the horrible haze begin to creep over him. He was drowning in his own hatred.

He needed something to keep him afloat.

He gasped out a desperate plea to the air, hoping against hope that it would be heard.

"Old girl, help me."

"Oh you have to turn to a bundle of sticks for help now do you? The great and mighty Dark One reduced to speaking to twigs. Pathetic. No wonder it took you so long to kill me. Milah must have enjoyed being around you because you were so easy to leave behind."

The scorning words burned in his ears.

 _Just welcome the power you have. Then you won't be weak anymore. You would be unstoppable._

The darkness was coiling more and more tightly around him, his limbs starting to ache with the need to wield the power within him.

He almost sobbed in relief when he felt something begin to drape across his soul, understanding the sensation enough to know that the Jolly was utilizing the power of the dagger.

He remembered the day he had returned from finally finding his vengeance. When his ship refused to speak to him before he even got on board, he spent the remainder of the day seeing to the lines and sheets, a simmering resentment burning in him as he attended to chores he hadn't ever needed to before while aboard the Jolly. But when the night crept across the sky, his anger diminished and the voices got louder. He remembered filling out a last entry in his Captain's log before desperately trying to fall asleep. Only to realize that the magic bubbling within him would not allow it. He'd paced around his cabin, staring at the dagger, until he decided to hide it in the small compartment in the siding above his bed. In the long nights of the following years, he'd developed the habit of rubbing the wall behind which the dagger was stored with his hook, constantly trying to fight the temptation of removing the dagger and keeping it permanently on his person.

As he felt the weight of the dagger's power wash over him, it seemed as though the sensation passing over him was different than before. The pressure felt less intense, almost foreign, but in no way less compelling. He did not feel any compulsion, so there was no command being given to the dagger, but he could not help the unsettling feeling that there was something amiss about the comfort that crept across his mind.

He could feel the darkness trying to creep in to his doubts, attempting to twist the sensation into something else. But the pressure continued unfalteringly, despite the difference he could detect, allowing him to force his focus into the present, ignoring the shadow of the monster who still lurked in the corner of his eye.

It took several minutes for his thoughts to catch up to where they had left off before the Crocodile had appeared. Henry, and the fact that the boy could see the darkness. How could that be possible? Did the boy possess some kind of magic? Was it from his mother?

He knew the Crocodile assumed that the Princess had power within her as the product of True Love. And that she had been foretold to be the Savior, the great light within the world that was intended to protect the balance of fate itself. But the Great Curse that he had once planned on having the False Queen enact was never unleashed, a mystery that he had never been able to solve. And now she had what she wanted, without needing to destroy the realm.

If there was no fate to fulfill, how could the Princess have any kind of power? Though the Crocodile, and many others, adhered to the belief that true love created magic, he himself was not so sure.

 _Perhaps, once he's yours, you could use it. Who knows how much power the son of the princess could possess. You can use him. He would be so grateful that-_

The slithering voice in his mind came to an abrupt halt as something began to slide across his soul. He recognized it as the compelling power of the dagger. But where before, when the slide of wielder's essence felt as deep and compelling as the very depths of the sea, this time, it was as if the sea had been replaced with a cool forest pond, dappled in shadow, a cool breeze stirring its surface, refreshing and still, but much deeper than it appeared.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sensation, trying to understand why the dagger's power felt different. He allowed his awareness to crawl back along the connection, as if he was slowly dipping his feet into the forest pool, travelling further and further into the pond and back along the bond. Right as he felt that he might uncover something, the darkness swelling in anticipation of its newest master, he was struck with a brilliance he could not describe.

He knew his eyes opened, but his mind was awash with a flurry of iridescent shadows, shimmering across his thoughts like secrets on a summer's breeze. It was what he imagined gazing into the heart of the star might be like, before it burns up the beholder, soul and all.

He could only stand the brilliance, the intensity of it for a moment, before the great well of blackness within him screamed out in agony, thrashing wildly within the confines of his mind and forcing the connection to break, jarring him back to the present and breaking the connection he had with the dagger, and the source of brilliance that seemed to possess it.

But as his own mind was forced back into himself, it was as if suddenly, the connection had been reversed. Where before it was as if his mind had been trying to push into a deep pool, it was now as if the water contained within had been released in a great and mighty cascade. The force of it washed the darkness away as despair and love, fury and understanding, hatred and pity, confusion and compassion swelled within him.

It burned.

He pressed a palm to the side of his head, trying to brace his thoughts from the onslaught, and noticed, in the corner of his eye, the specter of the demon writhing in agony alongside him.

Like the aftermath of a monumental flood, the flow of the emotions within him slowly began to run dry, until at last, the flow ceased. Despite his relief at the ending of such an overwhelming experience, he could not help but feel bereft, as if the cascade had swept a deep crevice within him.

It was a void that the darkness immediately tried to fill, a chaotic backlash of black intent, like pouring wine too quickly into an empty goblet. The demon visage, that had only moments before been cowering was now laughing hysterically in his ears while blood pounded through him.

His vision began to narrow as his ears started to ring, too many intense sensations in too short a time, after far too long of nothing but absolute .

 _Something is wrong. The dagger is in danger. You must reclaim it for yourself. Your freedom is threatened. Take the power back. TAKE IT._

The darkness screamed ferociously within him, his breaths getting shorter as the evil coiled about his heart. It was too much. He could feel his reality sliding away again, as it had on the ship and again in the presence of the young prince.

Henry.

The warmth that the boy's smile had conjured within him suddenly sparked to life within him, the tiniest speck of sanity amidst the darkness. He reached for it, seeking the light for the first time in centuries.

 _Yes, reach for it. Snuff it out. Destroy it permanently._

Even as the darkness sought to twist the desire within him, the small light of affection and protectiveness that the boy had created within him gave him the strength to try and regather his presence of mind.

Desperate to use the spark, he wildly sought something within the room to help center him and allow him to focus on fostering that ember within him. The darkness was clawing at his insides and it took several sweeps of the room for him to notice the fully stocked writing desk. Once he had understood what he was looking at, he was struck with a sudden inspiration.

He straightened from where he'd been hunched over, braced against the footboard, feeling as if every muscle in his belly protested the action, pulling at his lungs, abdomen, and loins. With a hiss, he managed to straighten his back, and he allowed the heavy coat to slide off his shoulders, followed quickly by his unbuckled vest. Then he stepped on the back of his heel and pulled his foot free of his boot, repeating the motion before using his toes to push his socks off, leaving his feet bare.

Once he pulled his suspenders straps off his shoulders, he made his way over to the writing desk, savoring the icy flagstones beneath his feet, the intense sensory input drowning out all else in his mind. Once he was seated, he unrolled a piece of vellum, smoothing it flat with the small carved weights that had been provided to him. He took a moment to marvel the craftsmanship of even such a small item, rolling the detailed swan back and forth in his hand, examining the fine lines of the feathers and the strange liveliness of the inset emeralds that denoted its eyes.

Shaking his head, he pulled the vellum tight, and as he took in the blank canvass before him, he felt his mind slow and focus. With deliberate movements, he used his hook to push up his shirt sleeve as he reached for the quill. A brief dip in the ink pot and a momentary pause as the dark stain dripped back into its container allowed his thoughts to center. Then, after a steadying breath, he brought the raven-feather quill above the page and allowed his instinct to take over.

The stark lines that had offered him relief in the dead of night, when the coiling darkness kept him from the rest he so desperately craved once again drew him into a trace of calm creation. The dark stain of the ink seemed to siphon the very blackness of his soul onto the page and out from his veins, as if he was curing himself of the poison within him with every pass of the nib upon the vellum.

As the ink sank into the page, the lines appeared smooth, but he knew that if he looked more closely, he would be able to make out the tiny patterns, a webbing of darkness, that followed the indents in the vellum, creating minute masterpieces of chance and pressure. Almost like fate could not help but be beautiful in its accidental outcome with even something as insignificant as lines on a page.

Did the tiny tributaries of ink that his hand created know that, though it appeared as if their existence was random and chaotic, that if they could just see all their fellows together with them, that the hand that create them was guiding them into a masterpiece?

Was the vision he was forcing upon the ink and page worthy of such consideration?

As he carefully pressed the next mark onto the page, a memory suddenly surfaced. One he had no idea he still possessed within his blackened heart.

 _In the early years of his captaincy, it had always amused Killian that Liam could never find things to occupy his mind. It was a frequent lament his brother shared with him when the two of them dined in the privacy of the Captain's Cabin._

 _So Killian was surprised when one evening, when he was due to dine with his brother to review the route that Killian had laid out for their latest voyage, that Liam did not immediately answer his door when Killian knocked. Liam usually stood by the door to chastise Killian on his tardiness, whether he was actually late to dinner or not._

 _It took a long pause, a second knock, an oath, and a thud for an extremely flustered Liam to open the door to allow Killian into the cabin. He could tell by Liam's posture that he was waiting for Killian to say something about both his inattentiveness and his dishevelment, but he could not find it in himself to poke the bear that evening._

 _However, Killian could not suppress his curiosity at what would have so suitably distracted his brother that he had forgotten their standing meal arrangements. It took most of the meal, several subtle inquiries and several more less than subtle needling comments before Liam finally gave in._

 _With a bashfulness that Killian had not seen in Liam since he had danced with the King's daughter, Liam stood and retrieved several pages of handwritten notes from the shelf above his bunk. He paused before offering them over, clearing his throat several times but seemingly unable to find any words._

 _Killian took the pages with an eyebrow raised in question, but Liam's explanation was not forthcoming, so he dropped his eyes to read the pages in his hand._

 _The sea keeps you from running_

 _for there's nowhere you can go_

 _an eternity before you_

 _with forever left in tow_

 _The horizon crooks its finger_

 _in call you can't deny_

 _that seduces the soul of sailors_

 _until in its embrace they chose to die_

 _Lead me to the ocean_

 _guide me to the shore_

 _for never was home nearer to me_

 _than when the sea asked me to soar_

 _And when you hear the sirens_

 _with their voices in the breeze_

 _and the waves that kiss with mermaid's lips_

 _to bring a sailor to their knees_

 _And it's in its foaming tempest_

 _that your truest soul is found_

 _with the wind and hail and hurricane gale_

 _you stand up or you'll drown_

 _Lead me to the ocean_

 _guide me to the shore_

 _for never was home nearer to me_

 _than when the sea asked me to soar_

 _And when the sky is silent_

 _and the surf is made of stone_

 _you find the peace in company_

 _of the emptiness alone_

 _Under the lash of sun and spray_

 _and the caress of wind and sky_

 _I find myself and lose my way_

 _and it feels like I can fly_

 _And as I stand here in the quiet_

 _and the horizon calls to roam_

 _I know the sea was born inside me_

 _and I will never find my home_

 _Lead me to the ocean_

 _guide me to the shore_

 _for its in her arms and in her waves_

 _I'll wander out once more_

 _He raised his eyes back to his brother once he'd finished reading the pages, even more surprised when his brother refused to meet his eye._

" _Brother, did you write this?"_

 _Liam's shoulders straightened, and a bitter expression crossed his face, "And what if I did?"_

 _Killian stood, offering the pages back with one hand, while he put the other on his brother's shoulder. "If you had, I'd tell you that it's wonderful. May I ask what inspired you to write it?"_

 _Liam's face softened as he took the pages, turning to place them back on the shelf, pausing to lookout the window as he answered._

" _I'm not really sure. You know I have often lamented not having anything to occupy myself with, and while I was looking over the few books that Commander Reighl left, I came across a book of poetry and thought that perhaps I might try my hand at it."_

 _Killian smiled widely at his brother, "That is a wonderful idea! I am sure that you will find plenty to put to the page." He paused and thought about it, his shoulders dropping as the thought crossed his mind, his hand sliding off his brother's shoulder. "I would say I'd try it too, but let's be honest, I think there is little I have to say worth wasting a page on."_

 _At his words, Liam's eyes warmed, and after a moment's consideration, he spoke, a quiet laughter lacing through his first words._

" _It's true, little brother-"_

" _Younger."_

" _Little brother, you probably would not have many words to put to a page." He paused and Killian's heart sank. But Liam continued in a more serious tone, "You may not have the words, but brother, I know the fantastic visions that you see behind your closed eyes. I've seen your small little illustrations on the scraps of paper when we spend a few nights in port. So sure, you may not have the words, but I do not think that the images you have in your mind are any less worth of putting to a page than mine."_

 _Killian could not help the wash of pride, but he still wasn't convinced. "But those are just scraps. I'm no good at proper illustrations, Liam. It's probably best if I just don't-"_

" _Brother." Killian snapped to attention as his Captain spoke, rather than his brother. But once Liam had his attention, his brother softened his tone again. "The only way you can get better is to practice. Perhaps you can show me some illustrations during our voyage? It would be my honor."_

 _Killian basked in his brother smile and decided that if Liam thought that his drawings were worthy of a page and practice, then they must be. So he gave his brother a beaming smile and nodded, "As you say then, brother."_

 _Liam studied his face for a moment, a shadow seeming to pass over his face, before he broke out into another wide grin and slapped him on the shoulder. "Come now, enough about all that. We have a route to plot and glory to be won. Sit brother and tell me how you plan to have us go." The two settled at his desk and the strange start to their meal was forgotten in their plotting and discussion._

He barely noticed the time passing as he worked, the state of focused calm that he had once treasured when he was drawing finally returning, after many years of not being able to find it. By the time he sat back from where he'd been bent over the desk, the sky had darkened to twilight and the candles had magically lit themselves.

As he sucked in a deep breath, his awareness slowly refocused upon the world around him, and he was surprised to feel the tingling of magic under his skin. He rubbed his ink stained fingertips together for a moment, trying to understand the sensation that ran under his flesh. But after a few moments of consideration, he felt the swell of power begin to fade, and he refocused on the now completed image on the page before him.

A portrait of a smiling young boy with a light about his face, understanding lining his impossible eyes and the slightest grief in the smile of a slave.

Henry.

He studied the illustration, taking in what his mind had chosen to capture upon the page. The boy's wit and intelligence were clear in the sharp sparkle in his eyes, and yet there was a childish innocence in the smooth lines of his face. There was however, one small wrinkle between his brows, where if studied closely, the weight of his grief could be seen. But despite the tremendous misfortune his subject had faced, right in the corner of his lips, sitting there like a forgotten kiss, was belief and hope for a better tomorrow.

As his eyes traced the lines his hand had made, he again felt that deep well of warmth and protectiveness flare within him. He studied the eyes of the portrait, circling back to the question that had brought him to this. How was it that those impossible eyes could see?

He was abruptly brought out of his pondering by a knock at the door. Irritation flashed through him as he stood to answer it, a scowl twisting his features as he yanked the door open.

"What?" he snarled.

He immediately regretted his foul temper, when, instead of one of Regina's lackies, he was faced with a young girl, who, when he had opened the door, been standing just beyond the threshold but had jumped backward with a yelp of terror, cowering slightly in the face of his anger.

Her face was white, and her eyes were blown wide in fear, her mouth moving feebly, but whatever message she was supposed to be delivering could not make its way past her lips.

His ill temper vanished as quickly as it came, a bubbling well of guilt taking its place even as he attempted to ignore the wash of pleasure the darkness created within him in the face of her fear.

He sucked in a breath, trying to relax his posture and soften his scowl, before he spoke in a much softer tone, "Apologies lass, I didn't mean to frighten you. I was expecting… I was not expecting you." At his much gentler tone, he was able to see her frail body relax, and it was much easier to ignore the sour taste in his mouth as the darkness hissed its displeasure when she straightened up with a tentative smile on her face.

She still seemed shaken though and it took her several moments to compose herself. During the brief pause, he studied her features, a familiarity about them that had him looking more closely. It only took him a moment to place the face.

"Uh, he- her highn-her majesty, Q-Queen Regina, would like to invite you-" her voice faded for a moment, despair settling across her face, before she blinked and cleared her throat, "Would like to invite you to join her presently for this evening's coronation celebration."

He considered her words for a moment, "Aye, lass, I'll be there."

Her relief at his acceptance was visible. He wondered what sort of threat Her Royal Snottiness had issued to have the girl so frightened of his refusal. But his consideration was cut short when she gave a false smile and a short curtsy and took off down the hallway.

"Lass?" he called. She froze, and he could see the fear crawl up her spine, and he grit his teeth against the dark cooing in his thoughts. She slowly turned, a falsely obliging expression on her face and apprehension resting across his shoulders.

"Y-yes sir?"

He paused, fighting the unbidden smile at the formality. It had been a long time since he had been given that title with any sort of deference. He refused to consider the amusement that bubbled in him at the fear the title had been said in.

"Is your name, perchance, Wendy?"

Her whole body froze, a completely different type of fear overtaking her features. But it was in the blazing fire in her eyes that bespoke of her true character. Sharp and focused, the flames were cold and hard. It was clear that she understood the implication of his knowledge of her name, and she took that as threat to her family. It was no wonder her brother held her in such high esteem.

She refused to answer him, waiting with her hands clenched, her features twitching as she tried to mask the emotions that flitted as clearly as written words across her face. He felt the darkness stirring as endless possibilities for a soul like hers played out in his mind. All the ways he could use her.

 _It would be so easy. So easy to give her that push into darkness._

But he refused to acknowledge those thoughts, pressing through the darkness to continue casually. "Because if it indeed was Wendy, I happened to have met a most delightful and helpful lad called Michael in the stables who asked me to convey his love to her. But if you are not she, perhaps you might pass it on to her?"

"YOU'VE SEEN MICHAEL?" she cried, her facade completely crumbling as she ran back to him, closing the distance so quickly that he did not have a chance to react before her small hands were tightly gripping his linen shirt. "Is he alright? Have you seen John too?"

Again her desperation and eagerness for answers stirred the darkness, the shadows whispering to him to use it, to bind her to him, to bargain for the information. But the thoughts of Michael's face help re-conjure the fierce protectiveness that had been kindled in the stable, and he was able to shove thoughts of deals and debts aside.

"Aye, I have seen Michael, though I have not encountered your other brother as of yet. Michael misses you terribly and was terrified for you both. But we were able to talk a bit when I went to fetch my horse for a ride this morning. He's well, though he's tired, and of course, misses you both."

He was surprised that she had allowed him to speak uninterrupted, and he was even more surprised when she released her stranglehold on his shirt in favor of throwing her arms around his waist with a sob to bury her face in his chest, a litany of "thank you so muchs" mumbled into his shirt.

Unable to think of anything else to do, he awkwardly lowered his arms from where he raised them in shock to carefully press them to the young girl's back and cradle the back of her head. After a few moments though, his muscle memory kicked in, and he more firmly pulled the girl against him, brushing his hand along her hair.

 _Just hold on to her tightly, just like that. Never let her leave. Trap her and use her. She right there in your arms._

"Easy lass, easy. Just breathe." Desperately pushing aside the whispers, he kept up a low litany of encouragements until he felt her sobs slow and her cries quieted. Finally, after one last deep breath and a tight squeeze, she stepped back from him, her eyes red rimmed but her smile bright.

"Thank you so much sir," she murmured, sketching an awkward curtsy. He couldn't help the small smile at how clear it was that she was not familiar with the etiquette of the royal house.

In response, and in an eerily familiar gesture, he gave the girl his most gallant bow. "A pleasure to be at your service my lady."

She gave a quiet little giggle before turning to run down the corridor. As he watched her leave, the darkness stirred violently.

 _Don't let her leave. She owes you a debt that she must repay. Take it. TAKE IT._

He shook his head, trying to jar himself out of the darkness's whispers, quickly turning back into his chamber. He closed the door softly, taking a moment to lean against it, noticing as he did that the Crocodile was again standing in the corner. He refused to acknowledge the demon, making his way back towards the desk. The demon gave a little laugh at his attempt to ignore it.

Once he reached the desk, he gazed back down at the portrait, studying the lines, doing his best to keep his thoughts from wandering towards the phantom in the corner. As he continued to consider the image, a sudden swell of magic buffeted the room, instantly setting him on guard.

He whirled around, hook raised at the ready and even the specter seemed on guard. But the next instant, he felt the familiarity of the magic as the red tinted smoke appeared. When it cleared, an empty dish, piled with clothes and bearing a small piece of parchment sat on the edge of the bed. Instantly, he relaxed, realizing that the delayed summoning spell had brought the Princess's breakfast plates and her used clothes from the day prior.

He knew the Usurper was awaiting his presence, but before he left he wanted to make sure that the Princess would have what she needed. He had decided that morning that to keep Regina from becoming suspicious, he would have to cut off contact with his ship and her passenger for the time being, if he wanted to be able to keep his end of their deal.

He walked over to the newly arrived items, and looked over her note. Of all the things he thought a secluded princess would ask for, a bath had not occurred to him.

" _Ah yes, how dare the loyal servant and lapdog not anticipate its master's desires."_ The Crocodile spoke from across the room. " _What is the purpose of having all that power, of being in the very heart of authority in a mighty kingdom if you are too afraid to use it? But you see, I have been giving it some thought. And I have figured it out. YOU once accused me of it but I can see now that you were just deflecting away from yourself. YOU are a coward. Every decision you've ever made was dictated by someone else because you were to afraid to tell them otherwise. Even now, you bow to a weak child, and allow her to order you around. YOU might as well still be a slave."_

He gave a low growl, feeling the anger wash away his ability to defend his mind from the darkness. It started to swell up and his world began to slip.

But again, the strange presence washed over him, a mighty torrent that swept away the taint for the moment. He savored the feeling for a long moment before he brought himself back to his task. His time was short.

He looked around the room, considering, when his eyes lighted upon a small soap dish that stood next to his wash basin. He picked it up and, allowing his emotions and desires guide him, placed a spell upon the dish that would have it expand and fill with hot water as well as shrink and empty.

Then, with a wave of his hand, he cleared the dirt and debris from both the dishes and the small pile of clothing that remained. A second moment of focus had the dishes enchanted to fill with whatever was desired upon command, and third had the clothing waterproofed and made resistant to daily wear and tear.

There was not much else he could give her, and he was readying himself to send the items back when he realized he should explain both the items and the situation. So he made his way back to the writing desk, placing the boy's portrait aside in favor of detailing the use of the items and the severing of contact for now.

Once he had finished, he rose. In turning away, the portrait caught his eye, and he considered it. Knowing how much she would appreciate having, he returned to the other items. Placing the letter and the portrait underneath the newly restored clothing, he sucked in a breath and allowed himself to once more trace his connection back to the ship.

It felt like trying to move upriver in a violent flow, but he soldiered through it and with one last burst of magic, sent these final gifts on their way.

That was the last contact he would have with the Princess for some time. He hoped that she would not be left wanting.

 _Oh yes how horrible that the baby Princess not be handed with gilded gloves and satin cushions._

He bit back the retort on his lips, but the smirk on the demon's face told him that he needn't say his thoughts out loud for the darkness to hear them. He simply ignored it as best he could as he slid his suspenders into place, then pulled the rest of his discarded clothing back on.

Once he was fully dressed, he made his way to the door, casting one last glance back and seeing the phantom practically cackling with delight. The demon's words passed through his mind, the unstomachable accusation of cowardice. He wasn't. _He_ _wasn't._

 _Are you sure about that dearie?_

Disturbed and angered, he slammed the door shut behind him and made his way, with unhurried steps, down to the throne room of the palace, and the farce that waited within.

As he walked though, he could not shake the feeling of impending fate, and it was with a shiver of apprehension that he continued on his way.

 _It wasn't until Killian had returned to his own quarters after his meal with Liam and began to ready himself for sleep that he noticed a small piece of paper among the maps and calculations he had brought with him to Liam's cabin. Curious, he lifted the page._

 _Written in shaky handwriting, with smears and droplets scattered across the page, the words seemed as if they had been frantically written in the dead of night, horror-sweat dripping from a form hunched above the page._

 _As he read his brother's frantic words, he could not help but feel as if a cold shadow had passed over his soul, chilling the still air of his cabin, save for one small stirring that blew across his face, sending a shiver of foreboding down his spine at what felt like the breath of fate blew down his neck._

 _Do you feel that darkness deeply_

 _when it creeps in with the wind?_

 _Do you know that chill within me_

 _condemning me to sin?_

 _The shadow in the darkness_

 _and the silence in the night_

 _It's the flicker in the corner_

 _it's the shiver in the light_

 _It takes the life within you_

 _but it leaves you still alive_

 _rather than your life or soul_

 _it takes the hope that you'll survive_

 _It's as thick as morning mist_

 _all pervasive in the air_

 _it'll creep up and caress you_

 _and you'll never know it's there_

 _It's not a demon nor an angel_

 _not a sprite nor goblin too_

 _not a virus nor contagion_

 _it's more evil through and through_

 _This specter that roams freely_

 _on the fringes of the night_

 _this phantom of destruction_

 _that haunts freely in the light_

 _You can't escape this wraith_

 _for you don't know if it's there_

 _and even if you're ready_

 _it'll catch you unaware_

 _This creature of despair_

 _takes that which you love most_

 _for it feeds on the will inside you_

 _The Grim Reaper's Ghost_


End file.
